


Dearly Beloved

by AmyDeHP



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 06:42:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11938494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmyDeHP/pseuds/AmyDeHP
Summary: Elia Martell passes away after giving birth to Aegon from complications. Rhaegar Targaryen, now widowed, realizes how fatal his mistakes were to his family, and decides to act politically to protect his children from all threats.





	1. Dear Uncle Aemon

_"Dear Uncle Aemon,_

_I write to you this letter with a heavy heart as it has only been hours since the death of my dear wife, Elia. She has passed away from complications that followed the birth of our son, Aegon._

_Oh, my wise uncle… your guidance and support would be of great help at this terrible hour. My wife was always of delicate health, and I have many regrets. I regret that, after the birth of our daughter Rhaenys, I hardly waited days before impregnating her again with our son. That must have had a great effect on her health; I should have left her a longer time to recover. I greatly fear that this may have been a cause of her death._

_I also regret my lack of vision and my folly at the tourney of Harrenhal. I have hurt my wife's spirit, and I fear that the sorrow had weakened her. The Stark girl had proven a brave warrior as she had donned the helm and plate with the laughing tree on it, and I had wanted to honor her, knowing that I can't present her with any other honor but the flowers; the only award a woman was afforded in a tourney. But after that, the distance between my wife and I grew, and though I explained what had happened to her, she still felt humiliated, and I knew I was in the wrong._

_I am now the only parent of my children, Rhaenys and Aegon. Rhaenys didn't get to know her mother long enough, and Aegon, like me, was born in the shadow of death. He will not be celebrated as he deserves to be, and every time someone remembers his birth, it will not be with joy, but with sorrow at the memory of his dutiful mother._

_I used to believe that I was the prince that was promised, and then I became certain that he will be one of my children; Aegon, on the night of whose conception, a red comet was seen above King's Landing. And now that a third head of the dragon is required… it has to be Viserys, my poor young brother._

_My wife's death has put things into perspective for me. I will no longer put a prophecy ahead of my family. My mother and my brother deserve better; they deserve that I act, and quickly. My children deserve an attentive father, and a loving mother. I will not, however, remarry. Elia was nothing but faithful and dutiful to me, and I respect that very much. The only mother that my children are going to have is mine, Queen Rhaella, their loving grandmother._

_When you send a raven in answer to this, it may not find me at Dragonstone. I will sail to Dorne today to return the corpse of my wife to her family, as I'm sure they wouldn't want her to be cremated. My wife was not a Targaryen, I'm well aware of that, but she was very much my family, and I will miss her every day._

_Your nephew,_

_Rhaegar"_

When he was finished writing the letter, he scrolled it, poured a dollop of hot red wax on it and sealed it with the three-headed dragon seal. He then called on his guard, posted outside the door, to call the Maester. When his maester came, he handed him the scroll, and said, "To the wall, thank you."

Rhaegar then raised his hand to throw his hair behind his head; a gesture out of habit that was now useless; his hair was gone. After Elia had died, he had a lock of her hair cut, and cut his short, braided her lock with one of his, tied it with a silver ribbon, and put the braid away in a black wooden box with the three-headed dragon engraved on it. _What an empty gesture;_ he thought to himself bitterly. _While she lived, I insulted her freely and felt no guilt. And now that she has died, I pretend that we were tied together? We never were, and that was my doing_.

He called the servant woman to draw his bath. When she did so and left, he stripped naked, stepped inside it and lay down, letting the hot water cleanse him.

While she was alive, he and Elia were undoubtedly kind to each other. With the exception of that vile public act that he had done at Harrenhal, he was always as civil and kind to her as his mother, the Queen, had taught him. It was not manly, let alone kingly, for a man to be unkind to his lady wife. And so, Rhaegar had always offered her kind words, called her "my lady" or "my princess", and been gentle to her while they were doing their duty in the marriage bed, and she had been every inch a dutiful and graceful princess.

But he had been distant, buried in books and scrolls, torn between a prophecy that he doesn't even know how to fulfill and a father growing more insane by the hour that he needed to depose. He had taken note of everything, built up plans and tore them down and then rebuilt them, and ignored only one thing, the most important thing: His family.

Only rooms away from his precious library, Elia struggled with her health alone. She struggled with her pregnancies alone. She fed Rhaenys and rose her alone. Yes, Rhaegar would show up sometimes to give Rhaenys a toy or play with her and her kitten Balerion, or even to say a few gentle words to Elia and kiss her on the cheek, but otherwise, his absence was deafening.  

It was him who had insisted that they move to Dragonstone, dreary and gloomy as it was, after the wedding to be away from his hateful father. Him who had taken her right away after she had recovered from giving birth to Rhaenys. Him who gave the Queen of Love and Beauty laurel to a little northern girl, declaring in the eyes of the public, that he had favored her over Elia; that she had been prettier and younger and stronger. _Why was it that when he decided to show truly up in Elia's life, it was always only to cause her pain?_

He lost track of time while he was in the bath. He almost didn't want to get up and put his clothes on. He had already faced Prince Lewyn, naturally, since he was one of his appointed Kingsguard. But Lewyn was not as confrontational as some other Martells will be; he mourned in silence and he and the prince had expressed their sorrow to each other politely. Soon, he would have to meet Doran and Oberyn Martell, and would have to look them in the eyes and tell them how sorry he was that their sister had died, and how sorry he was for insisting that she must get pregnant immediately, and how sorry he was for insulting her publicly, and how sorry he was for….

He heard two knocks on his door, and it was followed by the delicate voice, "Father?"

He answered her without a thought, "Don't enter, I'm coming out, sweetling."

"I'm sorry your grace," he heard his servant lady say, "The princess insisted."

"It's alright. You can leave her."

He put his clothes on and left the bathroom to meet his daughter. "Father!" She ran off to him and reached up, knowing that he would hold her. He did. "Father, they won't tell me where mother went."

"Mother went… to the sea, sweetling." He prevented his voice from breaking with difficulty.

"And when will she return?"

He wondered how much time he should give it until Rhaenys is old enough to understand. "I don't know, it could be months, it could be years. But when she comes, she will have brought you wonders from all over the world. She will bring colorful silks, toys from Essos the like of which children in Westeros have never seen, candy, and she will bring you a dragon egg."

Rhaenys gasped. "Will it hatch into a dragon? A large black dragon, like Balerion the dread?"

Rhaegar almost wanted to chuckle. Rhaenys was obsessed with Balerion. The idea of a large beast that breathes fire and flies, but loves and protects her and those she loves. Years from now, he thought, she will learn what dragons truly do from her maester. She will learn how they destroyed cities, burned their enemies, melted flesh and bone and steel. She will learn of the doom that the attempts to hatch more dragons had brought to House Targaryen.

"Oh, it will. Now let your father alone to put some proper clothes on, we have to be in our ship by noon. You should put something proper on as well. Sharei." He had raised his voice and turned his head to the door to call on his servant woman. She came in.

"Take the princess and dress her in a proper dress," he stressed the word proper, he didn't want to say the word mourning in front of Rhaenys, but he was sure Sharei would understand. "Then have them escort her and Aegon to the ship. I will be joining shortly."

"Yes, your grace."

When they left, Rhaegar donned his fully black outfit; a black doublet, black breeches and a black cape with pins shaped like the three-headed dragon, made of silver. He packed a few of the tomes and scrolls that he had kept close by his bed to accompany him in the nights; those, he insisted on taking with him himself… he would not have his books neglected and torn apart by anyone.

When he arrived in the ship, Rhaenys was already there, dressed in a plain black gown and carried by Lewyn, and Aegon was nowhere to be seen.

"The wet nurse has taken him to his cabin. He was crying to be fed."

Arthur came up from behind him. He had the habit of answering Rhaegar's questions before he asked them; almost reading his mind. Rhaegar gave him a small smile of appreciation. He was always grateful for Arthur's presence. Nothing in the world made things easier like a friend who bore your burdens with you. He walked to the edge of the ship and leaned his elbows on it, staring at the waves. He felt Arthur follow him silently.

"They'll be angry at me," Rhaegar said to him, worry shaking his voice. He knew how he had hurt Elia, and yet he was afraid, most of all, of being confronted about it by her brothers. Not that they would hurt him (though Oberyn definitely wanted to; he knew it) but… their looks at him will be like daggers, their words like spears.

"They will be, but more so sad for her to concern themselves with anger."

"The anger, I deserve. But I'm not sure I can handle it."

"You have handled worse."

He looked at Arthur thinking of an answer, but he was stopped by the look on his face. Arthur had pursed his lips and turned his eyes away from Rhaegar's face. "What?" Rhaegar asked him.

"Hmm?"

"You always purse your lips and look away from me when there's something you want to say, but don't know if you can say it. Go ahead."

"Well, it isn't something I want to say…" Arthur looked at the sea below, and a feeling unlike what Rhaegar expected was on his face: Anger.

"News keep coming from King's Landing every day, from Oswell. Says your father… hasn't been very kind to your lady mother."

Rhaegar felt his fist closing. "What do you mean?"

"The other week, he burned a knight he had suspected of treason. After that…" Arthur took a deep breath, "he went to her grace's chamber and took her by force. He says her ladies whisper of scratches on her, and bites."

His stomach churned. He felt his breaths coming out of his lungs like fire. He didn't know what to say.

"You need to do something about him, quickly." They were whispering now.

"Right now, what I want to do is put him on a pyre and watch him burn."

"Rhae, you know what I mean."

 _Rhae._ Only Arthur, Elia and his mother called him that. He didn't have to save Arthur, he couldn't save Elia, but he will save his mother. "I will. I promise. I meet with Prince Doran in days… perhaps the end to my father's terror is coming sooner than we think."

"I hope so. You will look good on that throne." Rhaegar was no longer paying attention; his brain now had that map table on Dragonstone sprawled over it; he was now doing calculations; weighing names, thinking of allies and foes…

"Oh, by the way, Rhaenys keeps talking about a dragon."

Arthur had gotten back Rhaegar's attention by mentioning her name. "A dragon?"

"A dragon egg that her mother will bring from overseas, and from it, will hatch Balerion The Dread himself come again." A sad look was on Arthur's face now. "We understand. Prince Lewyn even started talking to her of the candy that Elia will bring from Essos. Candied plums and raisins and all manner of cakes and pies and dried fruits covered in sugar. She can still be a child."

"The move to King's Landing has to come soon, Arthur. For my children. They can only have one mother now, and that is Queen Rhaella."

"My sister Ashara is doing her best. Though she says she was not fashioned for motherhood, and her grief sometimes overpowers her and she prevents herself from crying while speaking to Rhaenys. She looks very much like her mother."

Rhaegar was silent; he felt a node form at the back of his throat.

"It's you who doesn't look like you anymore," Arthur said, in a bemused voice, "I've yet to get used to the short hair."


	2. Dear Prince Oberyn

The journey from Dragonstone to Sunspear had taken a month at sea, and now the ship was hours away from arrival. Rhaegar could see Sunspear's dome and walls from the distance.

For the duration of the whole voyage, Rhaenys asked him, every single day, if the sailors had run into Elia at sea, and every day, the answer was no. Today, though, Rhaegar and Prince Lewyn decided to teach her a lesson.

Prince Lewyn had fetched Rhaegar a map from the captain's chamber, and Rhaegar unscrolled it for his little girl. "Look," he said, pointing at Dragonstone. "We were here; this is Dragonstone. We are now going here," he said, pointing at Sunspear. "We can't run into Mother because our route is unlike hers. Mother has travelled east, to Essos." He ushered with his hand in a broad move to the vast lands of the eastern continent. "In Essos, my princess," Prince Lewyn said, "men and women have invented for their children toys unlike any you've ever seen. They say that some in Essos have also acquired dragon eggs. Princess Elia has travelled there, and we are still here, on the coast of Westeros."

Rhaenys looked disappointed. "Oh, don't be sad, my love," Rhaegar said, "you will soon meet uncle Oberyn, and uncle Doran. I hear he has a lovely little girl who looks just like you, you will enjoy playing with her."

Her eyes widened. "A girl? Like me?"

Rhaegar pitied his daughter. It was necessary to keep her and her mother away from Aerys, he knew, since the man had already expressed dislike for her, but by keeping her away from King's Landing and on Dragonstone, where there were no other noble children to play with, had doomed Rhaenys to loneliness. "Yes, my dear, and Prince Oberyn has four." Oberyn's girls were bastards, all. But he wouldn't have minded that Rhaenys plays with them if it would distract her, and because he had no intention to snob a Prince of Dorne, least of all Oberyn. "Share your toys with them, be sweet to them as mother would have instructed you, and they will be good company."

Rhaenys smiled, seemingly happy with the thought of having company of her age. He called on her maid to take her and prepare her to meet her uncles. When Rhaenys had left, Rhaegar thanked Lewyn for the help in a low voice, then asked him where Arthur was.

"He is posted by Prince Aegon's door, your grace."

He remembered that he had only seen Aegon once the previous day, so he descended the wooden stairs to the cabins, thinking of his son, of Arthur, of Rhaenys, and thinking most of all of Elia. What life would have been if Elia hadn't passed was all that had occupied his thought of late, and he knew why: He did not want to think of what was going to happen; what he _had to do_.

By Aegon's door, stood Arthur, all in white, tall and glorious and dutiful. He had turned his head at the sound of Rhaegar's steps.

"How is the princess today?" Arthur asked.

"Good. She liked the notion of playing with Doran and Oberyn's daughters."

"Aegon is good too. He's being fed."

Rhaegar was surprised. "You've been checking on him?"

Arthur gave half a smile. "Why, of course, your grace."

The prince frowned. "Ugh. Don't call me that." Arthur chuckled.

Rhaegar twisted the door's knob. Inside, Aegon's milkmaid was sat on a chair near his crib, and she had taken her breast out to feed him. He had forgotten her name. He lowered his gaze as she tucked her breast back into her dress. "Your grace," she said sheepishly.

"You can continue to feed him later, please leave us for a moment."

It wasn't that he had need of being alone with his son; it was that, other than the more familiar few people in his life, he wasn't always comfortable being around others, more so lately. When she left, she had put his child back in his crib. Rhaegar crossed the room and looked at his baby son, standing just over him.

The few hairs on top of Aegon's head had been as silvery as Rhaegar's, and when he opened his eyes, they were just as purple, albeit lighter than indigo. The color reminded him of that of his brother's eyes. He carried the little thing with his two hands and rose him to his chest.

He was such a calm child. In comparison to Rhaenys who had woken Elia from her sleep many a night, Aegon seldom wept or screamed in the night, but only softly whimpered when he wanted to be fed, and he always was, right away. _And he would always be,_ Rhaegar swore to himself. _He will always be well-fed, and well-cared for. He will always be safe and secure. He will be the king of Westeros, even if I never become. And his sister… she will be strong and kind and well-loved, and I will protect her with my own life._ He swore it to The Father.

He carried the child for minutes, thinking of what's to come; of his plans, only this time, the plans had one prime purpose: To protect his family. Mother, Viserys, Rhaenys, Aegon… _I will not have them endangered by the obsession of a madman._ He lay his son back down in his crib and called on the milkmaid to continue feeding him; he didn't want him to hunger for long.

On the coast of Sunspear, stood a sublime entourage: The Dornish lords and ladies were known for their lavish silks and embroideries in warm rich colors, and even while they were in the black and dark-grey of mourning, they still looked terrifyingly elegant. At the center of it all, stood two men and a girl: Prince Doran Martell, in a black surcoat with a golden sun pierced by a spear fastening a black cape to his back; handsome and imposing even in sadness, the fearsome Prince Oberyn Martell in a similar garb; younger than his brother and more lethal, and the little girl must have been Arianne Martell, dressed in a simple dark-grey gown.

Prince Rhaegar had ensured that Rhaenys and Aegon stay on the ship for the moment, for behind him, was a wooden coffin painted black and emblazoned with red stones; some true rubies, and some garnets. The stones formed the sun pierced by a spear of House Martell, and inside the coffin, lay the body of his wife, wearing the gown she wore to wed him and the bridal cloak he gave her.

Rhaegar took Prince Doran's hand and shook it. "Your grace," the prince of Dorne said to him politely and knelt his head solemnly. Rhaegar returned the courtesy. Prince Oberyn did the same, but Rhaegar didn't fail to notice the look that Oberyn had shot him with prior. He was too tired and too guilty to answer it appropriately, so he only knelt his head as well.

"Your grace," Doran repeated, "I introduce my daughter, Princess Arianne, the heir to Dorne."

Rhaegar knelt and took the little princess' hand and gave it a light peck, and gave the princess a tired little smile. She smiled widely. He noticed how much she looked like Rhaenys. When he stood back up, he whispered in her father's ear: "Does she know?"

"She knows," Doran replied, a note of pain in his voice.

"Rhaenys doesn't. She thinks her mother has traveled to Essos. If they're to talk, could you please ensure…" Rhaegar couldn't complete the sentence. Doran nodded. "We are fathers, both. I understand fully."

"Thank you. Prince Doran, my understanding is that the funeral starts at dawn. Until then, I must speak with you and Prince Oberyn in private." Rhaegar had weighed whether or not Oberyn should be included in that, but he concluded that he should be. Princes Oberyn had an influence over his brother, and over Dorne, and he and Elia had been the dearest to each other's hearts.

He turned around and let Prince Lewyn embrace his nephews privately. "Once the coffin is inside the walls, send for Rhaenys and Aegon and their maids. Ensure that Rhaenys doesn't see it," he told one of his men, and didn't even pay attention when the man nodded and said, "my prince" in obedience. In that moment, he felt so entirely alone. Arthur was still back in the ship, guarding Rhaenys and Aegon. He was among his brothers in law, but none of them felt familiar, only Elia did, and Elia was long gone.

From the time that the reception was over to the moment that they stepped into Prince Doran's quarters overlooking the water gardens, it was all a blur; Rhaegar could not remember a thing. He was too drowned in his thoughts, and was woken rudely by the sound of Prince Oberyn slamming the door shut. He then went and stood next to the chair his brother was seated in, with the balcony behind them. Their faces were in the shadow, he could hardly make them up until his eyes adjusted to the sun.

"Well, your grace… you look dreadful."

He looked at Oberyn in wonder. No one had ever said that Rhaegar Targaryen looked dreadful. If he ever did, certainly no one ever _dared to_.

Prince Oberyn was smiling bitterly. "Your new haircut… it's fine, but not what your hair used to be. Remember how perfect it was? It doesn't matter for how long I grow my hair, it never reaches that length or feels that soft. And your face… you look like you haven't eaten in weeks, the perfect bone structure of your face is beginning to show way too much; your cheekbones might as well pierce your skin. And what is that I see on your face… is it stubble? Where you were always so perfectly shaven, with a face smoother than a maiden's hands? It's so pale it's barely visible, but it's there. Oh, don't get me wrong, I'm glad." His smile was now starting to disappear. "If you had still looked just as annoyingly perfect as you always have, I might have wanted to punch you in the face. An ice statue is what you looked like. The statue of a god. Perfect, beautiful, but cold. Not someone I want to sleep next to on a cool night. At last, you feel something, brother."

The biggest surprise of all was being called brother by Oberyn. Were he, Doran and Oberyn still brothers-in-law now that Elia was dead? He couldn't remember what his maester had told him about that in his childhood, and he didn't care. "I'm sorry about Harrenhal."

"You don't owe it to me, you owed it to her. And now it's too late."

"And I said it to her while she was alive. But I know that wasn't enough, it was only enough that I never do that in the first place. I disgraced Elia as I disgraced myself. I'm sorry."

"You asked for a private audience with us, your grace," Prince Doran said diplomatically. "Why?'

"Because you're the only people out there who I know will want to protect my children as much as I do. For Elia."

Before either of the princes got to answer Rhaegar, the door was knocked on. "You may enter," Prince Doran said. The door was opened and Arthur came in. Rhaegar hadn't felt more relief in weeks. "Princess Rhaenys and Prince Aegon are now safely inside the walls of Sunspear, your grace. They are being guarded by Prince Lewyn, and the princess is happily playing with Princess Arianne in the Water Gardens."

"Good," he said to Arthur, grateful for his presence. "If you will allow it," he asked Doran, "I would like Ser Arthur to be here with us. None can doubt his honor, I trust him with what I'm about to say as I trust him with my own life and the lives of my children. He and I have an understanding about the subject of this hearing."

"I would trust Ser Arthur with my life too. You have a good taste in men, Prince Rhaegar."

Rhaegar chose to ignore Oberyn. "My father doesn't like me, he doesn't trust me. And he is a madman. I do not know what he might think to do."

"And why should we have to protect you?" Oberyn asked.

"Because, brother, you heard of what he said when I presented Rhaenys to him."

Both of the brothers were silent; they had heard of the vile comment as many have. "He does not like my children as he has no trust for Dornishmen. My children are half Dornish. Should he attempt to remove me from the line of succession in favor of my brother Viserys, what do you think will come of Rhaenys and Aegon?" He turned towards Arthur. "Ser Arthur, please, tell them what you told me on the ship."

Ser Arthur nodded courteously. "My princes, I have received news from my most trusted brother, Ser Oswell Whent, of the king's deteriorating sanity. He has been burning lords and knights and servants, he has been consorting with the likes of Guild of Pyromancers and a foreign eunuch who has been named the master of whisperers, and… he has been taking Queen Rhaella by force, quite violently. Some say he has even attempted to assault Prince Viserys, but Queen Rhaella stood up to him."

Now, Prince Oberyn pursed his lips, and was silent. "When my mother was alive," said Doran, "Queen Rhaella was her dearest friend. They arranged for your marriage to my sister together."

"And now she is being violated by… _him_. My own mother… Every time he feeds a man to the flames, it feeds his desire for…" Rhaegar could not even say it.

"And how do we know that that is true?" Oberyn asked. "How do we know you aren't trying to use us against your father when he has done nothing?"

"I thought you said you trusted Ser Arthur with your life, Prince Oberyn? But even if you did not, I imagine the news will reach you here soon, if they have not already. The real danger is not only my father, my lord."

"What other danger is there?" Oberyn asked with a frown.

"Lord Hoster Tully," Prince Doran said, "has promised his daughter Catelyn to Brandon Stark."

Rhaegar was too surprised to speak for a moment. Somehow, Prince Doran was on the exact same note as him. "And his other daughter Lysa to Jon Arryn." Rhaegar said, with half a smile.

"Jon Arryn is fostering Eddard Stark and Robert Baratheon," Prince Doran said, answering Rhaegar's smile with an understanding one.

"And Robert Baratheon is set to marry Lyanna Stark." Rhaegar said, finishing Doran's sentence for him. "Compliments, my lord." He nodded in recognition.

"Why, your grace, you aren't the only one who observes these matters."

"There's an alliance happening. An alliance between the Warden of the East, the Warden of the North, the lord of the Riverlands and the lord of the Stormlands. It won't be long before they add Tywin Lannister to their fold, finding one husband or the other for his daughter, and her prospects are quite high; she's quite the famous beauty."

"And now that you are unmarried, have you not considered this famous beauty for yourself, my lord?" Prince Doran asked, quite politely.

"I will never remarry." Rhaegar attempted for his tone to be neutral, but it was solemn beyond his control. The brothers looked surprised, but Rhaegar resumed. "We're out of this alliance, my lords. And that is too dangerous an alliance to be out of. As of now, it's only us, Lord Mace and Lord Tywin. And we're not a force to be underestimated, that is true, but what will come of us when we're fragmented and they are one? I don't know what their ambitions are, but if my father gives them an excuse, just one excuse… burn this wrong lord or that wrong knight, they will rain fury on us."

"And what do you mean to do with that?"

"I mean to ease their fears, to give them some boons, to find some good matches for those of them with children still unmarried, maybe foster a child or two with my son and daughter at court, and find a future queen consort and a lord husband for my daughter among their children. I mean to make them find an ally and a friend in me, and to trust in the future of House Targaryen as a stable and fair dynasty. I mean to protect my mother and my brother. And," he took a deep breath, "I mean to be crowned within the year."

Now, Prince Oberyn smiled. He truly smiled. "Come close to me, your grace."

Rhaegar was confused, but he was not going to refuse the grieving prince in his home. He approached Oberyn, and when he was by his side, he could finally see the dashing view of the Water Gardens. He saw Rhaenys play with Princess Arianne and Oberyn's girls; she had never looked happier. And he saw Aegon, carried by his milkmaid. And in a corner, ever attentive, he saw Prince Lewyn, his eyes not lifting from the prince and princess.

"You see what I see," Oberyn was looking at the balcony too. "Your own children are in my home. You are in my home. The only guard you have who isn't a Martell within the walls of Sunspear is in this room with us, and though none of us would question his prowess, what could he do if we decided to attack you, Princess Rhaenys and Prince Aegon with a small army of five hundred men?" Prince Oberyn directed his gaze at Rhaegar, and smiled. "And yet here you are. You're not afraid, you trusted Prince Lewyn with your children, and you came here to ask us to help you depose your father. Why aren't you afraid?"

"Because of Elia," Rhaegar answered, his voice filled with trust. "She may have despised me for what I've done at Harrenhal, as was her right, but she gave her life for Aegon, and would have given it for Rhaenys just as well. I would give my life for them just as well. And so would you. For Elia."

"For Elia," It was Prince Doran who answered Rhaegar this time. "It is for her that I promise you this, your grace: You will be crowned within the year. You children will be safe and happy as she would want them to be. But you must promise me that House Martell will be protected, and that you will be the father that Aegon and Rhaenys deserve, as you were not the husband Elia deserved."

Rhaegar nodded. "I swear it, my lord. I swear it by fire and blood."

 


	3. Dear Ser Arthur

The four living Martells of Dorne, the courtesans of Sunspear and some of the Martells' bannermen lined on the shore of Sunspear, all clad in mourning clothes, yet more elegant than the ones they received Rhaegar in. And rightfully so.

In a small boat, Elia's bones were laid intact, covered in her wedding gown and her ornate bridal cloak, with the three-headed dragon wrought in cloth of gold on black velvet. Beside the bones, they had placed a spear. Where her feet would be, a black box containing her ashes was placed. The boat was tied to a wooden post on the pier by a rope.

The gathering crowd had looked east in silence, as traditional, waiting for the dawn. When the first line of light would be seen, the rope would be cut, releasing a Martell of Dorne into the sun. Rhaegar wondered what came of the Martells that were "buried" that way in the past… were they found by sailors? Did they eventually drown?

He had stood next to Oberyn and Doran in silence, looking east like everyone else. Finally, a trace of the sun showed; a pale yellow line in the horizon. Slowly, that pale yellow grew more golden and thicker. Without a word, Oberyn cut the rope with a dagger. Rhaegar watched as his wife's body floated away on a boat into the sun, a spear beside her.

"You members of House Targaryen cremate your dead, am I right in that, your grace?"

He was woken from his thoughts by Prince Doran's question. "Oh, yes. When a Targaryen is dead, they are cremated until they're all ash. The ashes are then placed in the crypts beneath the sept of Baelor."

"And yet you brought us Elia's bones."

Rhaegar swallowed, still looking at the boat. "She was a Martell of Dorne. I would have brought you her corpse intact had I the ability, but the journey to Dorne would have taken too much a toll on it, so we cremated her, but left the bones for a proper funeral."

"Thank you," Prince Doran said, "your grace."

The traditional Martell funeral ended when the boat was barely visible to the eye, and so, the gathering crowd waited until the sun had risen in the sky quite fully. While standing there, Rhaegar reflected on how he had felt about Elia.

The princess was always kind, charming, humorous, sweet. She had been a dutiful and obedient wife, strong in silence, alone in raising their child. But he knew what men said of love, he had heard a thousand songs and written a few. He knew that love, as men and women often felt for each other, was not what he had felt for Elia. He loved her, but not enough to be around. He loved her, but not in the way that would keep him from hurting her. Now, he regretted it very much. He wished that he had loved her more, that he had felt for her the way the songs describe. _It was said that you don't choose how or who you love, but surely I could have tried._

Some time later, the boat had turned into a tiny dark spot on the horizon. Only then did Doran speak again. "Come, my prince," he said, before turning around to salute the more highborn of the funeral party. Rhaegar followed suite, leaning on Arthur's silent support as he hung behind him like a shadow. After that, they headed for Sunspear.

"We aren't going to the Water Gardens?"

"We are, your grace. But first we will discuss some urgent matters in my solar."

Prince Doran's solar in The Old Palace of Sunspear was not as airy as that in the Water Gardens nor did it have the same lovely view, but it was warm and hospitable nonetheless, and bigger. Up in the Tower of the Sun it was, and Rhaegar could see the palace's famous Spear Tower from the balcony.

"Please be seated, your grace. You too, Ser Arthur."

Rhaegar sat down in one of the chairs that surrounded an ornate table, Arthur by his side. Doran and Oberyn took their seats in front of them.

"Last we talked was before the funeral," Doran said. "We went to sleep and woke up to send our sister into the sea, and the last we heard from you was that you mean to be crowned within the year."

The crown prince swallowed and nodded, knowing the question to come.

"How? Do you intend to murder your father?" Doran asked, with a completely polite tone.

"Don't get us wrong," Oberyn finally spoke. "If we heard that a man had been raping our mother, any man, even her own husband, our own father… well, I don't know about my brother, but killing him would be an option I consider."

Rhaegar nodded in understanding. He hadn't known to what degree he would refrain from murdering his father since he heard of what he does to his mother.  He exchanged a look with Arthur… _Ever if I were willing to sacrifice my honor to be a kinslayer_ , he thought, _am I willing to make Arthur sacrifice his?_ "I understand, but no. It would be far too dangerous."

"Then, is it a regency you want to declare? Do you want to call a great council, announce that your father is no longer fit to rule, and proclaim yourself Lord Protector of the Realm?"

Rhaegar snickered bitterly. "I have attempted to call a great council before at the tourney of Harrenhal. His foreign eunuch must have informed him of it, and he showed up." Doran's face remained expressionless, but Oberyn raised his eyebrow. It was news to him."I declare a regency, my father remains king and free to move inside the Red Keep and do anything that he wants. He would still be king. Then there's the matter of the alliance of northern and southern lords. How do I know what their intentions will be at the great council?"

"So, you won't declare a regency, and you won't murder him. What are your other options?"

"I will think on them. In the meantime, have the ravens that we talked about been sent?"

"Yes, your grace."

"Good. Let us hope they don't fall in the hands of the eunuch's men."

"He calls them his little birds," Prince Oberyn said, with a small smile. "He's a funny man. Did you know that most of them are children and whores? That's appropriate, I presume. Men open their mouths too much when they're happy, and no one suspects an innocent little child."

Rhaegar found himself dumbfounded. "How do you know all this?"

"We know more than we are given credit for, your grace," Prince Doran replied. "But, how terrible of me. We have not yet toasted to my sister." Without one more word, Prince Oberyn got up to a small nearby table that had a bottle and four golden cups on it. Rhaegar wondered how the two brothers could be so different, and yet so much harmony could exist between them.

"The finest arbor gold for the finest princess of Dorne who ever lived," Oberyn said while pouring the wine. He gave the first cup to Rhaegar, the second to Arthur, and the third to his brother. A saddened expression had now taken place on Doran's face. "The finest princess who ever lived, of Dorne or else," Rhaegar murmured. "To Elia," Rhaegar said when the Oberyn's cup was filled. They repeated, and they all drank.

* * *

 

A couple of weeks passed with Rhaegar in the water gardens, awaiting a reply to his ravens. _They must be abiding their time to decide what to do_ , he knew; Robert Baratheon was close enough for his reply to reach Dorne quickly, and even closer was Mace Tyrell. As for Lord Tywin and Lord Tully, their responses would take longer, but he was prepared to wait. He wanted to rescue his mother as fast as he could, but from the beginning he knew that a wait was inevitable, he was only hoping that his father doesn't throw any more people to the flames before he could put an end to it.

At least, Rhaenys had been enjoying her stay. Every day, she would play with the Dornish princess and Oberyn's bastard girls. They had proven pleasant company for his little girl, who had been so happy with having young friends that she gave most of her toys to them. While Arianne and two of Oberyn's girls were older than Rhaenys, the other two girls were around her age. The older girls would play the watching authority while the little ones would play dangerously close to the water until called upon by one of the older ones or Prince Lewyn.

Rhaegar also met with Lady Mellario, Doran's wife, in the water gardens. She was pregnant and due to give birth soon. The maesters had said that the way she was carrying said it was a boy. His understanding was that Lady Mellario did not stay where her husband was staying long, as they were fighting about something. He did not broach the issue with either of them. But after Lady Mellario left, Prince Doran told Rhaegar unprovoked, "I married her for love. Sometimes when you love, you care so much about small things, and that makes you fight. I know you didn't love my sister, but by all accounts, she's had a calmer marriage than mine… except for what happened at Harrenhal. Still, sometimes my wife and I wish we'd had a marriage like yours. Loveless, but with someone kind and graceful and courteous. Without enough passion to raise our voices or harm each other with words."

Rhaegar smiled sadly. "Everyone wishes for what they didn't have. I'm sure Elia would disagree with you had she been here, my prince."

Doran asked politely, "Have you ever fallen in love, your grace?"

Rhaegar thought about it. The way love was described in the songs, or in the scrolls that he had read… one time, he found in his library scrolls that turned out to be raven messages between a previous prince of Dragonstone and his mistress. They had described their loving passion in a very specific way. When he thought of whom in his life he had felt that way about, he found but one person, and then he flushed and refused to think about it ever again. Now that he thought of Doran's words, he felt the same way. "I… believe I have not. If I may beg your pardon, my prince, I don't feel very well, I must retire to my quarters."

He and the Prince of Dorne saluted each other, then Rhaegar found Rhaenys to give her a kiss on the cheek and exchange a few words of courtesy with Prince Lewyn before retiring to his room.

At the door, Arthur stopped. When Rhaegar opened the door, he didn't enter. The prince peaked with his head out, "come in," he told his loyal guard. Arthur entered behind him and closed the door.

"Your grace?" Arthur asked, waiting on orders.

"Arthur, sit down in seven hells."

Arthur smiled, amused, and took the window chair, while his prince took off his surcoat and boots and lay on the bed in his white shirt, black leather breeches and silk socks. He was grateful, in that moment, that he had cut off his hair; untying his intricate braids would have been more effort.

"What?" Arthur asked, still not understanding why he was in the room.

Rhaegar looked at him, too exhausted to explain. "Nothing. I was just tired of being alone."

Now, Arthur's smile went away. "I'm always here for you, your grace."

The crown prince frowned. "Don't say your grace. I just like it when you're in sight. It feels good."

Before Arthur could reply, someone knocked on the door. Rhaegar cursed and sat up, and only then did Arthur open the door. There, stood a Martell guard, clad in leather and armor. "I beg your pardon, your grace, but Prince Doran asks for your presence. Says it's about ravens."

"Thank you," the prince replied, breathless. "I'll be there shortly."

Rhaegar put on his surcoat and combed his hair quickly with his fingers. While he was strapping his boots, he said to Arthur, "You know, you don't have to walk behind me here. I believe I'm safe. You can rest."

Arthur snickered, and asked, in a completely neutral tone, "Why do you think I joined the Kingsguard, your grace?"

Rhaegar looked up from his boots, and though his sight didn't reach Arthur's face, he told him, "Because it's a great honor? Because you're the greatest knight of the realm?"

"The greatest knight of the realm is Barristan Selmy. He will always be the man to stand steps away from the king. Gerold Hightower is also great; underestimated because of his age, but great. So is Oswell. And Aerys will always keep the Lannister boy around just to spite Lord Tywin, but he is also good. That leaves me… to you. The crown prince. The best knight guards the king, along with the other good ones. The second best knight always guards the crown prince. Do you understand why I joined the Kingsguard now?"

Rhaegar felt his heart beat faster. Before Arthur joined the Kingsguard, there was a period of time where they were friends. Arthur was fostered at court, trained with Rhaegar, and they were knighted around the same time, and only shortly after, he took his Kingsguard oaths.

He had finally finished strapping his boots, so he looked up at Arthur, right in the eyes.

"I joined the Kingsguard because Ser Barristan knew I would die before I would let anyone hurt you. That's why he recommended me to the king, and that's why I was more than happy to take my oaths. Do you understand?"

* * *

 

When Rhaegar arrived in Prince Doran's quarters, he found the brothers sat down, concerned expressions on their faces, two small scrolls on the table in front of them, and a maester standing behind them. Before any of them could offer any courtesy, Prince Doran said, "Maester, please recount what you told me to Prince Rhaegar."

The maester nodded. "Your grace, we have received two ravens at Sunspear, both intended for you. The first from Lord Mace Tyrell of Highgarden."

"Good," Rhaegar said. "And the second?"

"From His Grace in King's Landing."

 _His grace in King's Landing._ Rhaegar felt the color drain from his face. He cleared his throat. "Thank you, maester. If you would be so kind as to leave us." He knew he wasn't the one to give orders in Prince Doran's own home, but he also knew none of the brothers would object. The maester nodded and obeyed.

Without a word, Rhaegar took a seat opposite the brothers, and pulled another for Arthur who took it. He grabbed the letters, and chose to unseal the one sealed with the three-headed dragon. He unscrolled it so quickly he almost tore it apart, and as his eyes moved between the words, he couldn't speak. At one point, Arthur took it out of his shaking hands, and whispered, "I can read it."

Prince Doran's eyes were wide in curiosity, but Oberyn's eyes were almost all-knowing. He had almost expected this to happen.

 _"My son,"_ Arthur read _. "I can't say that I did not expect whispers of your treason to reach me. I was almost certain that you were not loyal, and now I regret the day I gave your mother my seed and she gave birth to a traitorous whelp like you."_ Arthur's voice shook with anger. _"I should have known you were a cursed bastard the day you were born; you brought doom on House Targaryen in Summerhall."_

 _"Come to King's Landing, traitor. Announce for all the realm to hear that you will join the Night's Watch and that you abdicate all rights to the throne that you and your two whelps hold to your brother Viserys. If I don't hear that you have sailed within the week…"_ Arthur's voice was now almost muffled. Rhaegar's right hand squeezed his left until they both reddened. _"…your dear mother will be thrown from the highest tower in the Red Keep. Sail at once to see her before you depart to the wall. Your father, the king."_

 


	4. Dear Prince Doran

In the bathtub, Rhaegar lay in the hot water with only his face above it, and thought of the day's events, and those of them yet to come.

After reading his father's letter, everything around him had seemed a little muffled. He was a prisoner in his head, fighting a war, rescuing his mother, knocking his father down with all his evils. In his head, Rhaenys and Aegon were safe. Viserys and Mother were safe. Rhaegar had built them all a small water garden in the Red Keep, fashioned after the one he was staying in right now, and all the children played in them, while he, his mother, Arthur and the Kingsguard looked on them, smiling, and kept them safe. In his head, he was a fair and wise king, not because he wanted to be a king, but because he had to be. He was preparing for the long, long winter to come; his children and Viserys training to beat the darkness, but having lived a long childhood first.

The notion of joining the Night's Watch did strange things to him when he first heard of it, though. Was it really that bad? After all, what better place to protect the realm from the darkness than the Wall; the very place where the darkness was kept at bay. And he would be near his beloved uncle Aemon, and years later, Aegon would join him. But then he thought… how do I know that my father would leave Aegon alone until he joins me? How can I protect Rhaenys? How can I make him stop hurting Mother? And Arthur…

After leaving the princes of Dorne's company, he and Arthur had had a small chat that had turned into a small argument because of their dark moods. It ended with Arthur swearing that he will never leave Rhaegar's side, even if he joined the Night's Watch. But the truth is, even if he were willing to swear himself to guard a wall of ice for the rest of his life, he didn't want that for Arthur.

He finally got out of the tub after the hot water had turned barely lukewarm, and put on fresh clothes to meet with the prince of Dorne. It was certainly past midnight, but that was the time the prince had picked.

Outside his door, Arthur was waiting to accompany him. When their eyes first met, neither of them moved. The palace was lit with candles on the walls, and Arthur's eyes glowed in their light like fire. Rhaegar sighed, and looked at the floor. Arthur reached down and took his hand and nodded in reassurance. Rhaegar was surprised by the move, but he finally felt his mind get swarmed with feelings different from dread. He gave Arthur a sad smile, and then walked, his devoted companion a step behind him.

Prince Doran's quarters were even more airy than normal. In the night, the winds of the sea and the desert sent a chill through Rhaegar's bones. But inside, he could glimpse the warm light of a fire; a fireplace was set close to the table at which Doran was seated, and the red and orange flames cracked and filled the air around them with light and warmth.

Rhaegar nodded at the prince of Dorne and saluted him. Doran only nodded in silence with a smile, then his smile disappeared. He raised his finger to his lips in a silent gesture, then ushered towards the two seats in front of him.

When Rhaegar sat, he spotted parchments, two quills and two cups of ink, one set of each was set in front of him, and one in front of Doran. At the beginning, Rhaegar's eyes widened, demanding an explanation. Then, Prince Doran took up quill and parchment and began to write. Slowly, Rhaegar was beginning to understand. After the prince was finished writing, he passed the parchment to the crown prince who began to read it.

_"Prince Rhaegar. Glad you joined me. I hope you're comfortable with this method of communication. Our previous agreements have reached your father by way of songs from the beaks of Varys' little birds. However, not even the Crone herself will be able to squeak the contents of this conversation to a soul. After reading this, please throw it in the fire and write your response to me."_

Rhaegar smiled and nodded. He held up the letter for a bit longer knowing that Arthur, like most people, tended to read slower than him. When it appeared that Arthur was done, Rhaegar threw the letter into the fire and watched the parchment blacken and turn to ashes. The crown prince then took up his quill, dipped it in the ink and began to write.

_"Thank you, Prince Doran. I am more comfortable commuting with you this way and knowing that what we say is safe between you, me and Ser Arthur whom I trust with everything._

_So, pray, Prince Doran, what shall I do? My father expects me to sail within the week and if I don't, he'll know, in the same way that he knew that we were planning a deposition, and he will murder my dear mother."_

He passed the parchment to Doran, who appeared to be a quick reader as well. He took up his quill and a new parchment and started writing.

_"As your sire demands, your grace, I advise that you sail within the week."_

Rhaegar frowned. He didn't write anything, but looked at Doran asking for an explanation. Doran took up another parchment.

_"Why, if you don't sail, your grace, Queen Rhaella will be murdered, and she is very important to me as she was important to my mother, let alone how important she must be to you. And so you shall sail, your grace. To Dragonstone."_

On the next parchment, Rhaegar wrote only two words. " _Why Dragonstone?"_

" _Prince Oberyn has departed tonight to speak to some of our friends and ensure that a special gift from us arrives at Dragonstone just in time for your arrival. In return for Elia's bones. It will help you a great deal. When you have received our gift, you shall then be able to sail to King's Landing and deal with your father_."

Rhaegar had thought up a plan to deal with his father. But it won't be safe until some important people's loyalty to him is ensured. Most of those at court who were on his father's side were petty lords and bootlickers. Ser Arthur, Prince Lewyn and Ser Oswell were loyal to Rhaegar, and Jaime Lannister was likely to follow whoever his father was loyal to, and Rhaegar knew that that will be him. Come the time, he did not wish for Ser Barristan, Ser Gerold and Ser Jonothor to turn against their brothers, but the remaining knights of the Kingsguard he could deal with. The more important people were the lords paramount of Westeros, and they were waiting for an ally. Rhaegar had promised them in his letters to be that ally, but he had yet to hear their responses, and he was getting anxious. He took up a parchment and let Doran know as much. After Doran read his response, he heard the fire eat the letter.

_"The lords of the realm are fickle, your grace, and you have promised everything in your power to appease them. Lord Tyrell has responded positively and that is a good sign. The promise to foster his heir in court and, in time, make him your squire and then knight him must have done him a great honor. I suspect the promise of Princess Rhaenys' hand to Lord Edmure Tully is quite the lucrative match, and likely to make his father join your cause. It is also likely that Lord Tully will sway Lord Stark, since you made Lord Tully the promise that the first daughter to result from the union of Brandon and Catelyn or Lyanna and Robert will be Aegon's Queen Consort, as long as such a daughter comes within the next five years. The apologies and confession you have pledged to Lord Baratheon must have had their effects as well, and you have swayed him by way of the blood you share. I hear that he, himself is a drunken oaf, but his maester who advises him isn't. And as for Lord Tywin, the gods know he dislikes that poor dwarf son of his, and wants nothing in the world more than his son Jaime back as his heir. Your promise to absolve him of his Kingsguard oaths is granted to make Lord Tywin listen, and your promise to end the tradition of marriage between brothers and sisters in favor of allying the Targaryens with the great houses of the realm by marriage is all the more lucrative for all of them; now they can all hope for royal matches for their grandchildren too._

_Your father has not only burned his lords and knights, I'm afraid, but quite the few bridges as well. There is a reason why those lords were planning to undermine his dynasty, your grace. Your father has proven a volatile and dangerous ruler, but so long as they find in you a friend and a wise and stable man, they will have no reason to undermine you."_

Rhaegar took a deep breath trying to make the anxiety go away. He sighed and nodded, and threw the parchment into the fire.

_"And what of Lord Varys? How do we know that my movements will not be reported by him? And when I sail, what comes of Rhaenys and Aegon?"_

Prince Doran read, threw the letter in the fire and quickly took up a parchment to respond. _"Worry not about Lord Varys. He shall not trouble you if you know your plan and execute it silently. He only knows as much as you say out loud. And as for your children, worry not about them either, your grace. They will be safe within our walls. If your father even bred a dragon, it will not be able to come and pluck them from my hands. The first Rhaenys Targaryen learned the hard way that only a dragon who makes peace with Dorne survives it. This Rhaenys Targaryen and her brother are not only at peace with me, but they are my blood. And like House Martell, they will be unbowed, unbent, unbroken."_

Rhaegar read the final words and smiled. He then picked up this final parchment and stood up, throwing it into the fire and standing there, watching it blacken and disappear into ash. _Not even the Crone herself will be able to squeak the contents of this conversation to a soul._ He stood there, in the warmth of the fire, ensuring that every single one of the parchments had turned into ash, and thinking that Princess Arianne was a fine little princess and that she would be a fine match for his brother Viserys. _Only a dragon who makes peace with Dorne survives it._


	5. My Dear Children

While in the water gardens, Rhaegar had mostly left Rhaenys alone to play with the Dornish princesses so she could finally have friends of her age and be distracted from her mother's departure. He'd had eyes on her all the time; his as he looked on her while she was playing from his balcony or stood near her in the gardens, or Prince Lewyn's, but after breaking fast together with the princes of Dorne and their daughters, they seldom spent a long time together until supper time.

And yet, when he told her that he would depart from Dorne in hours, she wept.

It started with calm sobbing, then her face reddened and tears covered her cheeks and she started screaming like Aegon occasionally did. "You're going to go away for years, like mother," she said. She repeated "like mother" many times; Rhaegar could hear it between her other muffled words that he could not decipher. He held her to his chest.

Prince Doran had secured the prince and princess a private area between the fountains of the water gardens where no one was allowed, to make sure no little birds would eavesdrop. It was guarded by a scary Norvosi who had come with Lady Mellario. Rhaegar learned that his name was Areo Hotah and that he could have crushed the neck of any "little bird" with his bare hand like a ripe orange till it became a bloody ruin. And so, he spoke freely, albeit in a low voice. "Sweetling, your mother has gone on a long journey to Essos," he said, praying to the Father Above to forgive him for this lie. "I will only go to Dragonstone to deal with some matters. When they're settled, I will send for you and Aegon and we will be together again. For now, stay with the little princesses of Dorne and play in the gardens."

"I don't want to. Nym and Tyene tease me. They say their father teaches them how to fight while you only… spoll me."

"Spoll?" Rhaegar repeated, not understanding for a moment. "Oh… spoil." He chuckled. "It's alright; you're younger than they are. When you're as old as they, you will be taught how to fight as well," he said, and his mind went to Visenya Targaryen. _Perhaps I was wrong in naming her Rhaenys; perhaps she was Visenya all along._ His mind also went to the gallant young Lyanna Stark. She was not allowed by her father to practice with weapons, and she had risked her life to enter the lists in secret to avenge his young bannerman. He decided that, to honor her, he should have thought up a way to change those rules regarding women and fighting, instead of giving her some stupid roses. To honor her, and to honor Visenya, the dragon queen without whom Aegon wouldn't have won his kingdom, but she hardly saw half of the glory.

"But they will not stop teasing me because I'm younger than they are. Take me with you."

"I can't. It will not be safe. There are bad people who want to hurt you, and I will travel north to put an end to that."

She had raised her hand to wipe away tears. "Will you end them like Balerion ended Aegon's enemies?" She was not old enough to learn the word "kill." To her, death was not a concept, only seizing to exist was. Balerion had just made Aegon's enemies seize to exist; he "ended" them. Sometimes Rhaegar thought that "ending" someone was a kindness; with their existence, it took their pain away.

"I will end some of them, and I will only imprison some others. Mercy is a good thing to learn, and so is forgiveness," he said, knowing that mercy was poison when practiced in excess, and forgiveness was not something he could afford anymore. _Some people you cannot be merciful with, or forgive. Some people the dragon protects; others the dragon "ends." But that's a lesson for when Rhaenys is a woman grown. Until then, I will make sure she lives her childhood not knowing of death, or pain, or betrayal,_ he thought to himself.

"Come back soon," she said. "Promise me, father."

"I promise you, my princess," he said, and knew that that was a lie. Rhaegar knew that if he succeeds, he will have to remain in the Red Keep for a long while, and if he doesn't… well, the executioner is in the Red Keep as well. _I will not come back to Dorne. You will come north to me, where your home is_. _You may be half a Martell of Sunspear, but you are still a Targaryen of King's Landing. A dragon._ And he would have her assume back her role as the princess of Westeros soon.

Rhaenys still looked displeased. "I'm afraid," she said with a frown.

Rhaegar sighed and grabbed her shoulders, pulling her away from his chest, to look in her eyes. "Listen, sweetling. One day, when the time comes, you and your brother and my brother Viserys will be more important than you can imagine. You will train to beat an incoming darkness, and beasts from legends. You will be heroes; slayers of giants and ice monsters. Until that day comes, you will be safe. I will make sure of that. And when it does, you will be so strong that nothing in this world will scare you. You will command an army so big that you will never feel alone. You will look death in the eyes and you will bury a sword in its heart. Your fire will melt the ice off this world."

Rhaenys looked at him with wide eyes, her tears almost dried. He was certain she did not understand every single word he said, but she understood enough to feel brave. She nodded pretending to understand all the same.

Before leaving, Rhaegar went to check on Aegon as well. His wet nurse was sitting by his side and she bowed when he entered the room and avoided his eyes. He held up his son in his arms; he was awake and fidgeting. When he opened his eyes, they were a lighter purple than his father's; more like his uncle's. He reached up with his hand and touched his father's surcoat.

"He is such a calm child, your grace," his wet nurse said from the corner of the room.

"He is. And would have made for a wise king," he said, quite loudly, fully intending for eavesdroppers to hear. "I hope that he will be safe. When he grows old enough, Prince Doran will see to it that he joins me on the wall."

Everyone in Sunspear was made aware that Rhaegar was sailing north; only they didn't know that he hadn't intended to follow his father's wishes. They thought that Rhaegar truly was abdicating his rights to the throne to Viserys and taking the black. Sometimes, he wished he could, but he knew that he couldn't. The only way to protect his family and the realm was for him to sit the Iron Throne. And he would personally see to it that Aegon will sit the Iron Throne too.

He touched the babe's cheek gently, then he held him up and gave him a light peck on his forehead. _You will be safe. I will protect you with my own life, that I swear._

The same crowd of Dornishmen who had been present to receive Rhaegar (and more importantly, Elia's body) had stood to bid him farewell at the port of Sunspear, missing only a few lords who went back to their keeps after the funeral. The princes of Dorne stood at the head of the crowd and with them was little Princess Arianne, and this time, Lady Mellario was there too; only she stood as far from her husband as would have been allowed. He stood through about an hour of courtesies and observed, bemusedly, that he still commanded respect from them. Even though word was out that he was going to take the black (though the real reason was not known; Doran spread the word that Rhaegar took it in grief over Elia) he was still the crown prince for the time being. Or perhaps it was _because_ they thought he was exiling himself to the wall in sadness over their princess that they respected him; he couldn't tell.

Then, the little boat that would ferry him to his ship finally made it to the pier. Only then, he turned to Prince Doran and Prince Oberyn.

"Farewell, your grace," said the more courteous older brother.

"Farewell, Prince Doran. I leave my children in the safety of Sunspear knowing that I have a wise and loyal friend." He turned to Oberyn. "I trust that you too will protect them, Prince Oberyn. For Elia."

The prince nodded and smiled. "For my sister."

The old ferryman left the boat to help Rhaegar and Arthur in. When they were all on the boat, Rhaegar gave the regal prince of Dorne one last long look.

The night before, Lord Tywin's letter reached him, and the night before that, Lord Baratheon's letter did. Both of them held good news. Though Rhaegar doubted that Robert had completely forgiven him the slight at Harrenhal, he didn't seem to be planning to turn against him for the time being, and Lord Tywin's letter was positive as well, though it seemed still hopeful that Rhaegar would take his daughter to wife. He had no plans to, but he wasn't going to broach the issue of remarrying (especially with his lack of intentions to remarry) until he was safely on the throne.

He was still anxious about some of the lords choosing to side with the king, but he remembered Doran's words. _Your father has burned quite the few bridges._ Lord Mace and Lord Tywin were the most important and richest, but Robert Baratheon's consent to a great council was a good sign; it showed that the entire alliance to the north was willing to listen to him; after all, he doubted Robert would consent to that without consulting with his future father in law, Lord Stark, or the man who fostered him, Lord Arryn, and neither of them would act without Lord Tully's consent. But how does he guarantee that those lords aren't playing both sides? Perhaps some of them are playing allies to him, all while informing the king about his moves, waiting to see which side would win? Well, it was a gamble, but it was the only way. He hoped that he had swayed them with his promises which he fully intended to fulfill.

His mind was busy with possibilities and calculations even until he reached his cabin on the ship. He hardly paid a mind to anything else. That is, until Arthur entered the cabin the closed the door behind him. Arthur had never entered Rhaegar's room uninvited. Not that he minded, but it was so unusual that Rhaegar stared at him and didn't know what to say.

"You haven't spoken a word to me since that night with Doran," he said, in a dry tone. "Other than 'please be seated, Ser Arthur' or 'thank you, Ser Arthur'… What is on your mind? I'm weary of guessing, your grace."

Rhaegar was so surprised he stuttered. "I… I have been thinking about what's to come. And you know I can't speak to you freely, my father's spies are everywhere."

"Well, here we are, your grace… on your ship. There are no ravens here; you needn't worry about spies. I told you what's to come for you is what's to come for me. Wherever you go, I will follow; it has been that way since the day we met. And yet you hardly think to speak a word to me about your intentions, or what you feel."

Rhaegar felt defensive. "You read everything in those letters, you know what I intend to do. You're the only person in this world I share everything with."

"I would like to hear it from you. I would like to think that I mean something to you more than a loyal shadow that you share everything with," Arthur said, his tone getting heated.

"It is unlike you to be so demanding."

"Demanding? This…." Arthur said, pointing with his hand at Rhaegar from across the room. "This is exactly what you did to Elia. This silence, neglect, ignorance… it was like you forgot she even existed. You neglected her dead. I would die for you, but not like she did. Not because you didn't even think of me."

Rhaegar felt his stomach sink to the ground. _This is exactly what you did to Elia. You neglected her dead_. And then something else about the comparison caught his attention. "But me and you are nothing like me and Elia. She was my _wife_."

Arthur stared at him for a moment, his expression unreadable. And then, it all happened too quickly for Rhaegar to understand: Arthur crossed the room, pushed him against the wall, and kissed him.

Once Rhaegar understood what happened, he felt the blood rise to his cheeks and his heart beat faster. He kissed Arthur back, and they kissed again and again, and then it all came out of his control; his body was acting of its own volition. His clothes came off, and so did Arthur's white cloak and breaches, and his silvery white armor made a loud thud when it hit the floor. And then they were in bed, feverishly kissing, touching…

Rhaegar thought that if Arthur was upset at his absence, he no longer had reason to complain: In that moment, he was so alive his heart almost jumped out of his chest. Everything seemed a dozen times as vivid as it had ever been.

After that, they lay down, holding each other with Arthur's head buried in Rhaegar's neck, and the prince was thinking since when he had started feeling that way. It wasn't that he hadn't enjoyed bedding Elia (the only other person he had ever shared his bed with) but… since when did he start feeling that way about Arthur in particular? He could never even tell; if there were feelings, then he did a good job hiding them from himself, disguising them as nothing but feeling safe with Arthur, feeling like he could tell him anything in the world. At times, Arthur was the only person in the world who could make him laugh, or even smile. Those dark days when he was up to his ears in books and scrolls, reading about a prophecy and listening to it from that old toad at Summerhall, not knowing where to start to fulfil it, feeling responsible and yet small and afraid… Even on those days, Arthur could say something that made Rhaegar smile.

And then, another thought came to his mind and he felt guilty: Elia.

"I shouldn't have done this. I… took an oath to never remarry," Rhaegar whispered.

He felt Arthur snicker. "Why, did you otherwise intend to marry me, your grace?"

Rhaegar almost laughed, but he wanted to keep serious. "You know what I mean. What we did… I violated my oath."

"No, you swore to never remarry. You never swore not to love. Elia will never be replaced, I understand that fully, and I don't intend to try to replace her."

Rhaegar swallowed, and said what he had intended to say all along: "I'm sorry. I know I've been neglectful and self-centered. Even while I was trying to protect my family and the realm, I took it all to be about me: _My_ mission, _my_ kingdom, _my_ family, _my_ responsibility. I think I wasn't doing it for them, I was doing it for me. Because if I didn't do it, I wouldn't feel good about myself. I thought I had changed, but I'm the same man who ignored his wife to death. I promise you to try to change, though; for you and for them."

Arthur rose his head to look at him, and he was smiling. "I trust you will." He was silent for seconds, and then said, in a less serious tone, "Will you be the first king who lays with a man, your grace?"

"Oh, I don't know," Rhaegar answered seriously. "I've always had my doubts about Daeron the Good and Baelor the Blessed."

Arthur laughed. "Seven hells. Baelor…"

"And the Dragonbane too. Most definitely him." He was silent for seconds and then announced, "I was joking about Baelor."

Till dusk, they lay there and spoke of past and future kings. For the first time, perhaps ever, Rhaegar told someone how scared he was, and how all he wanted was for him and his family and all the realm to be in peace. He felt so weak, but when Arthur held him, he felt much better.

* * *

 

The wind favored the ship, and within seven and twenty days, three days less than the voyage to Dorne, Dragonstone was in sight.

As Rhaegar's castle came closer and closer, he contemplated it, wondering what it had held for him. For weeks now he had wondered about Prince Doran's gift, and how secure it could possibly be in the castle with Varys' little birds flying all around.

Arthur was standing close behind. "My home is a gloomy one," Rhaegar whispered to him.

"My sister Ashara definitely agreed," Arthur replied. "She preferred to stay in Dorne rather than be here when Elia wasn't. I hope you can forgive her that."

"She is forgiven. It's only appropriate."

Soon, the ship reached as close a distance to the island as it could get, and a boat was descended from it to ferry Rhaegar and Arthur to the island first. More boats were descended to ferry the prince's men at arms. _Well, gloomy as it is, it still is home._ Though Sunspear was a similar terrain to Dragonstone (a sandy beach) Rhaegar found himself finding subtle differences. Dragonstone's weather was less forgiving even in the midst of summer, its ocean was rougher and its sand was grittier. Even the air smelled like it came from a crueler sea. _Perhaps that's why I was not fashioned for kindness the way Elia was. The very nature of House Targaryen's home is cruel._ He was surprised to find that he had missed it.

While walking to the castle gates, he remembered that he had been working on sharing his thoughts with Arthur, so he said, "What do you think Prince Doran's gift would be?"

"He said it was something that would help you… and that perplexes me. It's not just a thing of value, it's a gift with political potential. Well, soon enough we will see."

When Rhaegar entered his castle, he was welcomed by the castellan, Ser Harold. "Welcome, Prince Rhaegar," he said, and looked somewhat frightened.

"Ser Harold. How has the castle fared in my absence?"

"I have seen to it that everything has gone well, your grace." The knight had been almost ten years Rhaegar's senior, and yet his voice sounded so thin and terrified that, in comparison to Rhaegar's deep voice, he sounded like a child. "What is it?" the prince asked him.

"Your grace, we have received ravens from Dorne, and a man who carried a letter saying he is a friend of yours, and carrying compliments from the princes Doran and Oberyn Martell. He has a… wooden box."

"And what frightens you so?"

"The man, he is…" Ser Harold swallowed. "…peculiar. He does not speak, and eats an exceedingly large amount of food, yet is very small. And that box he has with him is odd as well."

"Well, then, let's see the ravens first." Ravens from Dorne. What does that mean? "I'll be at the painted table. Please have the letters brought to me."

"At once, your grace."

Rhaegar climbed the steps of the Stone Drum, Arthur at his heel. By the time they reached the top, he was cursing under his breath. The tower was built as high as the topless towers of Valyria, it seemed, and Rhaegar wondered what happens when the prince of Dragonstone or his men age and fall sick and weak and can no longer climb all that tower to enter the room of the painted table.

At the wondrous old table, the prince took a seat and invited Arthur to take one as well. Rhaegar was squeezing one of his hands with the other, anxious. "Why would he send me ravens? Whatever could have happened?"

"Perhaps he was reached by more letters from the lords paramount and decided to forward them to you."

When the castellan came with the letters, two of them proved Arthur right: One was from Hoster Tully, the other from Jon Arryn. The third was from Doran.

"Thank you, Ser Harold. If you please, now, send me the man with the wooden box. But don't come with him, send any guard. This tower is so high climbing it once in a day is enough."

"Your grace," Harold nodded in obedience (and a bit of gratitude) and left.

He opened the letter from Tully first. His eyes scanned it, and then he announced, "Lord Hoster has agreed to the match between Rhaenys and Edmure."

"That is good, your grace."

He opened the letter from Jon Arryn next. "And Jon Arryn…." He said, while still scanning the letter, which was lengthier than Hoster's. "Has agreed to be my Hand, but says he may not be able to attend the great council himself, but will send Bronze Yohn Royce in his stead to speak for the Vale of Arryn. You think this is a ruse?"

"Might be, but it is of no matter; you're not really calling a great council, are you? Just measuring their support."

Then, Rhaegar opened the letter he was most anxious about. As he read it, his stomach sank and his chest was aflame with anger. He thought to himself that his father has now truly struck for war, and whatever comes at him, he deserves, for in war, everything was fair game. His blood boiled for justice. He found himself squeezing the letter in his palm.

"Rhae," Arthur inquired carefully. "What is it?"

"They caught a man of my father's spying near the water gardens. He confessed to have been intending to murder my children under torture."

Arthur didn't answer, and Rhaegar was silent for a minute. "I will return the favor. I swear it by all seven gods."

"You are better than to kill him…" Arthur pointed out carefully…

"He will wish he was dead every day."

The door was knocked. When Rhaegar yelled to come in, a couple of men at arms entered the room, carrying an unexpectedly large wooden box, wrapped in chains. The man who accompanied them had the Dornish features of bronze skin, dark hair and eyes. He was very small of stature. Rhaegar thanked his men and asked them to leave. Once they left, without a word, the man took a parchment out. He reached with his hand to give it to Rhaegar, but Arthur took it and passed it to the prince who opened it and read.

_"Dear Prince Rhaegar,_

_You may not confess to yourself that your heart desires this gift, but it does. We were glad to be able to supply it to you thanks to the loyal service of our good friend who stands in front of you and others. The man is mute, so if you please, don't embarrass him by demanding speech._

_We hope that this gift is the true start of a long and fruitful alliance between the dragons of King's Landing and the sun of Dorne._

_Your friends and allies,_

_Doran and Oberyn Martell."_

He looked up at the man. "Thank you," he said and nodded. The man nodded back.

"What is in the box? Open it, please." The box was a size that could contain a small man. A small man…

When the man took out the key, opened the lock around the chains, removed the wooden lid of the box and kicked it so that Rhaegar could see what was inside, he had almost expected it.

The man in the box was short and plump. His bald head and clean-shaven face almost shone with sweat and grease; he had had a reputation of smelling of roses and lavender and sweet things, but now… he must have not touched water in weeks. The dirty cloth that he was gagged with told of how the mute man had fed him without lifting it, only sneaking the food underneath. Rhaegar had met him only once, but it was enough to remember who he was.

He smiled at him the way a dragon must smile before it burns its enemies. More of a scowl than a smile, really. "Welcome, Lord Varys."


	6. Dear Mother

_If I were a real dragon that breathed fire and feasted on the cooked flesh of its enemies,_ Rhaegar thought, _he wouldn't have been so scared of me._

Lord Varys was huddled on the floor, dirty and stinking and afraid, his clothes and gag were soiled, and his hands were bound behind his back with a rope so right it must have chafed his wrists. All of this gave Rhaegar as much joy as he had felt since Elia's death.

"Sit him down," he said in a tone so cold it surprised him. "Don't unbind him."

The mute man grabbed the eunuch by the wrists and pulled him, so that he could seat himself. He did. Behind Rhaegar, Arthur was moving nervously. His knight then moved and stood between him and Varys, not blocking either from the other's sight, but still close enough to intervene should the little man try to hurt Rhaegar, who was almost twice as tall as him, and a knight with his sword and dagger hung on his belt. _Oh, Arthur,_ he thought, _you worry too much._ He watched and almost chuckled when Arthur put his hand on Dawn's pommel. Then his eyes went back to the pathetic-looking master of whisperers.

"You know, lord Varys… in your own way, you command respect. Or used to. Whispers about how you're a eunuch or how you're a foreigner who should have no place on the king's small council… you heard them all, did you not? And you cared none. Neither do I. I think you did an excellent job as a master of whisperers."

The prince of Dragonstone was pacing up and down the space between the map table and the balcony. He stopped and smiled at Varys. "An excellent job. You succeeded at keeping a madman on a throne he doesn't deserve for far longer than he should sit it. He threatened to kill my mother, did you know that? He threatened to kill his own queen, his own sister. A kinslayer on the Iron Throne. But how silly of me, of course you know. You were the one telling him that Prince Doran and I were planning to depose him, after all. Why?"

The man looked at him silently in horror. "Why did you help him plant a man at the Water Gardens to murder my children? Why did you tell him about the great council at Harrenhal?" Rhaegar looked to the mute man. "Ungag him. Let us hear an answer to that." He knew that there were none that could convince him.

When the dirty gag was off Varys' mouth, Rhaegar heard him take a big gulp of air into it. _He's going to keep breathing through his mouth to avoid his own stench, I wager._

"Your father's rule is the lawful rule, your grace," Varys said in a voice that he was trying to keep stable. "I did what was my duty to protect the lawful king from attempts of usurping. I did it for the realm."

"The realm?" Rhaegar said, and snickered. "Yes, I'm sure the realm would prosper under my father. After he was done raping his wife, burning lords, killing his own grandchildren and sending his own son to the wall where he would be forbidden from furthering the Targaryen line, thus thinning our blood more and more and opening the gates to a civil war and a destabilized realm should any ill befall my brother and he is unable to obtain any more heirs. It is a barrel of wildfire waiting for some idiot to light a candle under it. And you know who would have lit the candle? You. Telling my father that this lord or that is conspiring against him, all lies to further your own power and influence over him, of course. He burns the wrong lord, and we have a rebellion on hand. You would have happily set this realm you claim to care for on fire, Lord Varys. My own country that I'm set to inherit, that I was born in and lived my entire life wanting to protect, which you claim to love so much and try to protect from me by protecting the rule of my dangerous father. No, Lord Varys, you were not doing it for this realm or any that I care for. Pray, my lord… why should I keep you alive?"

A mad look flashed in the eunuch's eyes, and then a look of horror so pitiful it almost made Rhaegar feel mercy. "Your grace, I was wrong. Your father is no longer fit to rule. He is too dangerous, he almost killed his own family. I proclaim you King Rhaegar the First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men and the Rhoynar, Lord of all Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. I will give you information, valuable information. I will serve you better than I have served your father. I will serve the realm well and right, this time."

Rhaegar laughed. "And on what grounds have you changed your mind, Lord Varys? Because I have you? You have known for as long as you have serviced my lord father what he is like, what I am like, and what you should have done. They say you know everything, after all. And yet it has been only days since you and him tried to murder my own children. I have just received the news, did you know that? Surely not, you were tied up in a box, far from the reach of your little birds. So, you see… you're unlucky, you have arrived at my presence in a time when I'm not in the mood for mercy. I'm sorry, my lord… but whoever it is you serve or plan to serve is only yourself. And, I simply don't trust you."

The look of fright on Varys' face worsened, but this time, it inspired no mercy. Rhaegar knew that his body had been tense for a long while; prepared to do what he had to do, like a cat prepared for a leap. In a second, he had unsheathed his dagger, crossed the room, and slit the eunuch's throat.

* * *

 

That night, when Arthur entered Rhaegar's room, the prince proved that the events from earlier that day had affected him more than he thought they would.

He did not even say a word before grabbing the knight by the neck and kissing him. His body was in a feverish state, so nervous and shaky that he had sometimes touched Arthur too harshly, and sometimes too feebly. When they had taken their clothes off, he had almost torn every piece that he touched. His heart was still beating like a drum and his hands were still shaking.

When they were done, all that was left in him was sadness. He looked at Arthur's golden skin as it shone under the moonlight with sweat. It was lighter than Elia's, but darker than his. His fingers brushed the dark hairs on Arthur's chest absent-mindedly.

"That was my first kill. First time I killed someone was not as a knight, but as an executioner. Not a fierce warrior in battle that I killed, but an unarmed and tied up little man so weak and pathetic you could almost feel sorry for him," his voice sounded sad even to him.

He remembered what had happened after he had killed Varys. Cold sweat had covered him, and his voice, which used to be confident and menacing, was weak and shaking when he ordered his guards to take the body away and burn it out of sight. He had felt the breakfast that he had had on the ship rise to his throat, and kept it down with difficulty.

Arthur looked at him in sympathy. "You should have ordered me to do it," he said. "I have killed people before, I wouldn't have minded. He deserved it."

Rhaegar recoiled at the idea. "No. You are Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. You are not an executioner, you are a knight, and I value your honor above mine. I am going to become king, I have to get accustomed to doing dirty work for my reign."

Arthur sighed. "Speaking of your reign… when are we sailing to King's Landing?"

Rhaegar answered the question with another. "Has the message that we talked about been sent to Oswell?"

"Yes," Arthur replied.

Rhaegar answered him with a sad smile. "Then, I hope you have not yet unpacked. In the morning, we sail. I have to ensure that I submit to him before he harms my mother. I don't know how he would react to Varys' disappearance. Surely he doesn't know who's behind it, still… a madman does what he does and you can't predict it."

"Then," Arthur replied, "You will need every instant of sleep you can get, your grace," he said and his hand brushed Rhaegar's hair, then he got closer to him and kissed him, a kiss so soft he felt his heart beat a bit slower. "I love you, my prince."

The prince's knuckles brushes under Arthur's chin and felt the light stubble there scratch his skin, ever so lightly. "I love you too, my knight."

* * *

 

Arthur was still in bed when Rhaegar woke, and the sun had barely risen.

The prince donned his black cape, black breeches and dark grey tonic and surcoat with a three-headed dragon embroidered on it with garnets and cloth of silver. When he looked at his mirror, he noticed pale stubble had grown above his mouth and on his chin again. _Good_ , he told himself. _Let it grow into a beard and mustache, like Ser Barristan's._

In the past months, the prince had grown nigh on unrecognizable. He had remembered to shave less and less. His luscious silver hair was cropped short in the same fashion as Arthur's brown hair. Where he had always been tall and lithe but lean, he had now dropped considerable weight and the bones on his face had become more prominent, and he had now become willowy and his muscles had almost disappeared. When he looked at Arthur's perfect form on the bed, he felt embarrassed that he had forgotten to train and eat well. _I will, once this is over. I still have to be a warrior; I still have to protect my children and my mother and brother. I can't only count on the Kingsguard to do so. They have not protected my mother from him._

But how different he had become from his old self was going to be something he would use to his advantage.

When Rhaegar finally made it to the raven tower, he had with him a quill, ink and paper. He sat down at the maester's table and wrote.

_"Dear mother,_

_I have only a day ago made it to Tarth where I am a guest of Lord Selwyn for days because of troubles at sea. The winds were not our friend, and I am very late. I hope no harm has come to you because of my tardiness. I have obeyed my lord father's order to sail within the week of his letter, and sailed within days, as I'm sure Lord Varys has informed him._

_I expect to see you in fourteen days, twenty if I'm unlucky. Until then, tell father not to harm you, for I am coming to do what he asked of me. Lord Varys will assure father that I have been obedient and discreet and that I have sailed as soon as I could. I hope the gods forgive him his slights and misjudgments of me, and I hope that you and my dear little brother will be safe and happy._

_Your loving son,  
Rhaegar"_

He was not foolish enough to think that his mother will be the one this letter would be delivered to. He wanted his father to think that he would arrive days later than he actually would. He would have no way of knowing otherwise; the spider was dead and cremated. He tied the parchment to a King's Landing raven's leg, and watched it fly away west.

He took up another parchment, this one to Prince Doran, and wrote down a promise and an invitation. When he was done sending it, he descended the raven tower and went about to find the men that would sail with him.  

* * *

 

The Prince of Dragonstone hated King's Landing as much as he loved its smallfolk.

The city stank of fish and piss and horse manure (and all sorts of manure, in fact.) It was too noisy for him, and too stinky, and too crowded. The city watch had worked day and night to limit thievery, treachery, murder and rape, but he had no doubt that some of them partook in them, themselves. Atop Visenya's hill, stood the Sept of Baelor, and right under its nose, the alleys of the street of silk sprawled like serpents, and the street of a thousand whores mocked Baelor and his gods and their sept.

But Rhaegar reminded himself that, for centuries, House Targaryen had allowed the castle on Aegon's High Hill to be an even bigger mockery.

For centuries, House Targaryen had married brother to sister, snobbishly passing on useful alliances with the lords of Westeros. For centuries, one feeble king came after one foolish king after one mad king. The kings of Westeros had allowed their heirs their debaucheries and misdeeds and neglected to teach them what true kingship was, and the results were the likes of Aegon the Unworthy, Baelor the Blessed and Aerion Brightflame.

But Rhaegar intended to change that. From now on, House Targaryen will be what true kings should be.

When his ship landed in the port of King's Landing, it no longer bore the three-headed dragon mast. Instead of his luxurious ship, Rhaegar had taken an old ship that had just been repaired from the Targaryen fleet, smaller than the newer and faster ones. When he, Arthur and the men landed, they wore hooded robes and looked like monks. Beneath the robes, they all had their smallclothes, breeches, shirts and chainmail on. The robes were big enough to hide their weapon belts and their swords hung beneath them.

"Begging brothers," Rhaegar said to the city watchman guarding the port when he asked where they came from and their purpose. "From Maidenpool. Lord Mooton is a godly man, he gave us this ship so that we could come to King's Landing and preach."

The officer snickered. "To whom, the whores?"

Arthur smiled. "And the men who frequent them."

"I hope the lot of you have begged enough. A silver stag from each of you to enter the capital."

Rhaegar paid up in a pouch made of a dirty and rough cloth; perhaps the only that a begging brother could afford. The officer counted the coins and nodded. "Off you go," he said, and in seconds, Rhaegar and his men were out of sight.

It was only an hour before dusk, and the light of day was already beginning to thin. Hours separated them from the time they would enter the castle; hours they had to waste. In the crowded and stinky streets, the prince found himself desiring solitude, with only him and Arthur. He gave each of his loyal men two golden dragons to do with as they pleased. "Go," he said. "Preach to those whores, and be back in a timely manner at the place we discussed. But be discreet while you're at it. You never know what a whore does in her spare time." The men laughed and went about their business.

"And we," Arthur said, "What do we do?"

"We head to the market and hear the gossip. It will be telling."

The market was even more crowded and stunk worse. The merchants sought to sell the last bits for the day before the sun was fully down, and so they were louder and even more demanding. But what he and Arthur observed amidst them was telling.

One man whispered to his friend (quite loudly) that the city watch has been more aggressive since the eunuch disappeared, as King Aerys has been demanding more arrests and seeing traitors everywhere, and was offering gold for the head of his kidnapper. An old woman who sold fish and was chatting with her customer said angrily that more and more people have been being burned, including two guards and a maiden of Viserys who was accused of trying to murder him because she was seen chatting with a stranger. "The poor girl," the old woman said. "He was only her lover, I know the lad. He is not a traitor nor a murderer of princes, he cried all day when it happened."

Another conversation was between an old man selling fruits and a customer.

"Where is Rhaegar in all this?" The customer asked. "His father is…" the man turned left and right to ensure he wasn't being listened to by any gold cloaks, and only saw two begging brothers. "Well, the man is insane. If he can rule, then I can go around all of Westeros in one night."

"Do you think that if Rhaegar came from Dragonstone, he would be a better king than Aerys?" Arthur asked, entering the conversation.

"Why, of course," the merchant replied instead of his customer. "I have dealt with the prince when he was younger. He came to the market and bought apples for his men. When he paid me, he gave me three dragons too many. I once spoke to a septa who works at an orphanage, and she said he frequently gave her money for the babes too." Rhaegar could remember such instances, but not this man nor that septa in particular. "He looked so strong and fierce, like Aemon the Dragonknight must have looked. A true warrior king. He is generous and wise. He will keep us fed in the winter, if only he drags his arse out of Dragonstone."

"And have you not heard anything about him recently?" Rhaegar asked.

"I heard he parted to Dorne to deliver his wife's bones to the Martells, and they say he is sailing back north." the customer said. "Last we heard of him, he was still in mourning. But seven hells, grief can only last for so long, his father is about to set the whole country afire and dance and laugh like a madman. I heard he laughs bawdily when he burns those poor people. He is a madman, I tell you."

Soon after, Arthur advised, in a low voice, that they leave the market, since some of the smallfolk there seemed to have met Rhaegar before and could recognize him.

It was less than an hour before the time of meeting with the men at the designated spot of one secret entrance to the Red Keep, and so, the prince and his knight found the place, stood there and waited.

The spot was an alley near Rhaenys' Hill that was almost deserted, and a wooden door of a certain building there was that of a passageway to the inside of the Red Keep. Rhaegar and Arthur sat on the floor by the door's side like the beggars they were dressed as.

 _I have the smallfolk,_ he thought to himself. _I have the lords of Westeros. I have more than half the kingsguard, and I have the spider's ashes. What do you have, father? And why am I still trembling?_

He felt Arthur take his hand in reassurance, and only then did he notice that his hands had been balled into fists so hard that his nails had dug into his palms. He took a deep breath to calm himself down. Then their men showed up, and Arthur let go of his hand. They got up.

"Did you convert the whores into septas, lads?" Arthur asked, and the men laughed.

"I hope you have not blabbed." Rhaegar said. They all spoke all at the same time to confirm that they did not. Under the chainmail on his wrists, Rhaegar had hidden a slim key, he took it out and opened the wooden door.

"You still won't tell me how you acquired that?" Arthur asked.

"That's a story for another time," Rhaegar answered.

When the door opened, it revealed a small room with bare stone walls, with no furnishing anywhere. The pale light streaming in from the alleyway allowed them to see inside; a small patch darker than the rest of the floor was visible. Rhaegar entered the house and approached it, followed by Arthur. He knelt and felt the little patch with his hand until he felt it: a keyhole. He inserted that same key and spun it, and then slipped his fingers between the little door and the stony floor to raise it up. Before he jumped in, he gave the key to the nearest men to lock the door to the house. After he did, he looked around: It was a passage lined with candles on one of its walls. The ceiling was not very high; when he raised his hand, he could reach above the wooden door of the passage; it was built that way so that the door could be locked from the inside. Arthur jumped after him, and then came the rest of the men. When the last of them jumped in, Rhaegar ordered him to reach up and lock the door. He did, and passed the key to the prince.

The fourteen men walked for what seemed like little less than an hour. The passage twisted and turned; they sometimes had to climb up, or descend steep slopes. They would sometimes stop to pick their strength back, especially after climbs. And by the time they made it to the end, they had been covered in sweat and their hearts almost jumped out of their chests. That's when they saw more light.

Two men stood at the end of the passage with a torch, all in white and pale armor. One of them was plainly taller and broader, with black hair and stubble, and the other one was shorter, with golden hair and a face as soft as a maiden's.

"Brothers!" Arthur almost shouted at them. He ran and embraced Ser Oswell, laughing, and then shook the hand of young Jaime Lannister who looked at him like he was The Warrior himself. When the two knights recognized Rhaegar, whose stubble had grown into a beard and mustache (not as luscious as Ser Barristan's, but still very different from how soft his face used to be) and whose appearance had generally much changed, they knelt. Rhaegar took Oswell's hand and stood him up first, and they embraced. Then he took Jaime's hand and gave him a pat on the shoulder. "Ser Jaime," he said. Jaime looked at him like… well, not as adoringly as he had looked at Arthur, but still with enough admiration. "Your grace, my king," the golden-headed boy said. His wide green eyes glimmered in the torchlight like a cat's.

"You are our king now," Oswell repeated. "The castle is yours, your grace. The guard are yours. Your father eased our task with how he treated the guard and servants after Varys disappeared. They have been waiting for you."

"Who in the castle isn't ours yet?" Rhaegar asked.

"All of the small council men who are here," Oswell replied. "Merryweather the hand, Velaryon, Staunton, Chelsted, Pycelle… The pyromancer too. And Barristan and Jon Darry."

Rhaegar was surprised. "We have Ser Gerold?"

"We do. I spoke to him."

"And who is with him in the throne room now?" Arthur asked.

"Barristan, of course, and Darry. Pycelle too. The pyromancer, and the Queen."

Rhaegar felt his heart skip at the word. _Mother._ "When it starts, you two are to take her to Maegor's holdfast. Keep her and Viserys in a room and shut the door, stay by their side at all times until I or Arthur come to you and say it's safe. Understood?"

Oswell nodded, and Jaime muttered "Yes, your grace."

"Good. Now, take me to my father. Let us put an end to this."

The passages of the Red Keep were better lit than that twisting secret passage that they had just come out of, of course, and much less steep.

"Your grace," he heard Jaime Lannister's voice from behind him while they walked. "Yes, Ser Jaime," Rhaegar answered him.

"I want you to know I… I wanted to stop the king from hurting her. Your lady mother. I heard her…" the boy choked on his words. Rhaegar's hands were balled into fists.

"There was nothing you could do, Jaime. No one could do anything to him. No one but me. It's my fault that he has been allowed to hurt people for so long. But, I'm here to put an end to it, now."

When they arrived at the throne room's gate, the guards posted outside turned their heads towards them, and only then, did they all remove their robes. The hood revealed Rhaegar's pale hair and the purple gleam of his eyes, and the robe revealed his clothing, embroidered with scales and garnets and three-headed dragons. Even with how much he had changed, there was no mistaking him. The guards knelt. "The castle is yours, my king," one of them said.

"Stand," he ordered them. "Open the gate."

In seconds, the guards were pulling the heavy wooden gate open for Rhaegar and his men.

The gaping eye sockets of dragons stared back at Rhaegar from where they were placed, adorning the walls. A crimson carpet stretched between Rhaegar and his father. The prince approached, his men close behind him.

As he was approaching, he got a better view of the audience in the room. The first to catch his eyes was his father. Atop the thorny chair and its steep stairs, the man sat, and had a look of fright on his face as bad as Varys' right before Rhaegar had slit his throat. A lock of his long her was hanging beside his face, matted and unwashed. The more details he caught of the man, the more he wanted to wretch. Pycelle looked like a fool, as he always did. By the look on his face, he had not yet recognized Rhaegar. The pyromancer stood farther from the throne and looked like a madman; afraid and ecstatic, both at once. Ser Barristan and Ser Jonothor stood right by the stairs, and they only looked surprised. But after he was done looking at them all…

_Oh, how beautiful she was, and how hurt._

Queen Rhaella was seated in a chair beside the steps of the iron throne. When she recognized her son, she looked like she had been walking the deserts of Dorne for years and found a spring of cool water. Her eyes teared up, and she was smiling. Before anyone could prevent her, she yelled his name, and in a second, she had left her chair and they were in each other's arms.

"Mother…" he mumbled, and buried his face in her hair. He felt her cry in his arms. "It's over," he whispered. "He will never hurt you again. I promise on my life."

She did not speak, only cried. He had to pull her out of his arms; not because he wanted it, but because she could not be there when it started. He would not have her harmed. When he looked at her face, he noticed that she was emaciated, and had a faded bruise beneath her eye and a scratch on her neck. He felt a fire in his chest. His voice was so cold when he said, "Ser Oswell, Ser Jaime, escort the queen to the safe location that we discussed."

The two knights came to stand behind their queen, waiting to take her. But she was holding on to her son. "Rhae, don't. Don't let him hurt you."

"I won't. I promise. But you have to go. Keep Viserys and yourself safe. Go."

She stood and looked at him with tears still in her eyes. Rhaegar filled his voice with as much sweetness as he could and whispered, "By order of your king." She smiled a sad smile between her tears, picked up his hand to kiss it, and walked towards the door with the two knights behind her, her eyes still locked on him, even turning her neck to look at him until she left the room. Only then, did he turn his gaze to his father.

"You…" Aerys said with a shaky voice. "Whelp. You traitorous dog."

Rhaegar turned to Ser Barristan Selmy. "Ser Barristan," he said, and took a scroll out of his pocket. "Come and read this."

The old knight approached Rhaegar and took the scroll from him. He unscrolled it and began to read the letter that Aerys had sent to Rhaegar in Dorne. When it came to the part where Aerys had threatened to kill Rhaella, Ser Barristan stopped in shock for a second and continued reading.

When he was finished, Rhaegar said, "This man has threatened to kill his own queen, his own sister. After I left Dorne, I received news that he has also tried to kill my children, his own grandchildren. He is a madman and a kinslayer, but I am not. The castle is mine. I have the guards, over half of the kingsguard, and when the extent of his madness reached the lords of Westeros, they reached an agreement with me to establish a regency. As Lord Protector of the realm, I hereby command you to seize the king and transport him to a chamber in Maegor's holdfast, as far from the queen and Prince Viserys as possible, for he has proven a threat to their safety. Ser Barristan, Ser Jonothor, I command you to stand down."

Rhaegar could see that Jonothor had given up while Barristan was still torn. But in the time it took Barristan to sort his options, three of Rhaegar's men had climbed the steps and seized the king.

"Gently," Rhaegar ordered.

When Aerys was in front of him, the mad king started laughing. Laughing, like he was seeing a man burn. "It is too late, traitor," he said.

"Too late?"

"Where is Rossart? Don't you wonder?" his father asked between laughs.

 _Rossart?_ Rhaegar looked around him. The pyromancer was nowhere to be seen.

"While you were busy ordering the capture of your own father, Rossart left. The last loyal one. He has left to give my last order to the guild of pyromancers."

Rhaegar stood and stared at his father. "Oh, you thought you were going to come here, arrest me, and have an easy kingdom?" he had stopped laughing now, but was still grinning. "You will rule over ashes, and you will become ashes yourself. I am the dragon. The only true dragon, the last true dragon, and I will be reborn from the ashes, and you will perish. You and all those traitors will perish between the green tongues of wildfire within the hour, and this entire treacherous city too. The wildfire is under every house, every tavern, every brothel, even the Sept of Baelor and the Red Keep. I will watch all of you burn."

 


	7. Oh, Father

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains gore and graphic imagery

"Your grace, what should we do? Your grace?"

For seconds, Rhaegar couldn't answer. He couldn't even tell how he felt. Was it anger? Sadness? Doom? All he could knew he felt was his heart beating almost out of his chest, his frozen feet on the floor, his breaths going in and coming out heavy and painful like a sword in the chest, and his father's laughter. Even his vision became blurry.

_If you don't speak, your mother and brother will die. Arthur will die. You will never see Rhaenys and Aegon again, if your voice does not come back._

He turned around. "Catch Rossart. He can't be very far away. Surround all the known secret passages, the great gate, and the dungeons. Go. Ser Jonothor, accompany them and organize their movement." He found himself breathless, almost screaming the words, but his screams sounded suffocated.

The castle guard ran off with Jon Darry, but Barristan, Pycelle and Arthur remained.

Barristan was looking at Aerys in horror while the king laughed and danced, while Pycelle's hostile gaze was still directed at Rhaegar. Arthur was standing behind Rhaegar; he felt him there. He turned around to face him.

"Arthur… listen. I need you to go as well. To the guild of pyromancers. Pick some men, as many as you think you need, and go. Get all of them here to me, living."

Arthur shook his head. "I will not leave you. I will not."

"Yes, you will. You have sworn to obey your king. Ser Arthur, I trust you to stop it. I trust you."

Arthur looked angry. "He said the wildfire is under the entire city, we cannot stop it. You need to escape the city along with the queen and Prince Viserys, ring the bells to wake the people up and evacuate as many as possible."

Rhaegar shook his head in frustration. "There's not enough time, Arthur! We will only be able to evacuate so many, and if I abandon my people here, then I am a coward and not worthy of ruling them. Our only hope is to find Rossart and the pyromancers before they start the blaze."

"Then send Ser Barristan, I have vowed not to leave you."

Rhaegar found himself taking Arthur's hands. They were both wearing fingerless gloves; Rhaegar's black and Arthur's white. Their fingers touched, and they felt slippery with sweat, but soft and warm. _I might not be able to kiss Arthur, but if the city burns… I will not die without touching him one last time._

"I need Ser Barristan here. You go to the pyromancers and bring them to me living. They will remove the wildfire from the city or they will burn with it. It's our only hope, do you understand? Go."

For a moment, their eyes locked. Arthur's eyes were a lighter purple than Rhaegar's; lovely and kind. The prince's eyes widened. _I don't want you to leave me, but I don't want your honor to be tarnished by what is about to happen here, and I trust no one else with the task._ Arthur finally turned around and left. Rhaegar felt as if his spirit was taken from his body and attached to his white knight; when he left, he felt as if a part of him was dead, and when he thought of how it was possible that he would never see Arthur again, he felt as if he was a body and a beating heart completely devoid of a soul. _Good. Perhaps it is required of me to let go of my soul to do this. Oh, Father Above… please forgive me._

"Treason," Pycelle said, still in his place by the side of the throne. "This is treason. Ser Barristan, you should seize this treasonous prince and throw him in a black cell."

Rhaegar almost laughed. "My father plans to burn the city, and I'm the traitor?"

"The king is merely defending himself! We need to stop the fire from happening and arrest you, traitor." Pycelle said, and seemed to fully believe in what he was saying. This time, Rhaegar laughed. He looked at the ground, laughing hysterically, and then rose his eyes to Selmy. "Ser Barristan," he said, "Seize the Grand Maester and the king from his mad dance, and bring them in front of me here."

After a frozen second, Barristan went to do as he was told, while Rhaegar went to the nearest wall and picked up a torch. When he was in front of the iron throne again, Barristan had seized the two old men and brought them forth, one more gently than the other.

"So, father… since you seem to so love bonfires and the scent of burning flesh, might we play a little game?"

* * *

 

In the night, King's Landing's old stone buildings looked like small mountains; the market was empty; the streets almost so, except for the few men returning home from brothels or taverns. The city smelled somewhat less of piss and fish than it did in the morning; the sea breeze and the smoke from the torches that lit the streets cleansed the city and readied it for a new day to come. _Or will this day come at all?_ Ser Arthur Dayne wondered as he rode a horse as white as his cloak to do what he was ordered to do, galloping so fast he was afraid his horse would collapse. He heard the four men that he picked try to keep up with him behind him.

Rhaegar's task was no easy feat, Arthur thought. The secret passages to the castle were not few, and not all of them were known by everybody. The gods help them all if Rossart was familiar with entrances not known to them. All the worse if one of those passages led straight to a place near the Guildhall on the Street of the Sisters. Arthur could not gallop any faster to get there, and he had hoped that his road was shorter than Rossart's, and that him being on a horse will make him faster than the presumably unmounted old man enough to make up for him being late to the pyromancer's steps.

Arthur could feel the blood drain from his face; it felt tingly and it was covered in cold sweat. If he doesn't hurry, he might never see his prince again.

_If I let Rhaegar down, he will burn. We will all burn._

As he rode, he thought of Rhaegar long and hard. Any moment, the city could go up in flames, and he wanted to die with his silver dragon's picture in his mind. In the last months, Rhaegar's beauty had turned from a violent, awe-inspiring beauty that used to hit his heart and incapacitate him from thinking, to a delicate and pallid beauty. His short-cropped hair spoke of his grief, and his pale and bony face reminded Arthur of tales of Queen Naerys. Thank the gods that Rhaegar was not as sickly and frail, but he was no more what he used to be than Queen Naerys was Queen Visenya. _And what was there on this earth that Prince Aemon the Dragonknight would not have done for Queen Naerys?_

What Rhaegar was, was an isolated man who ignored all those around him and his family because the gods chose him for a higher purpose. What Rhaegar has become is a man who realizes that the higher purpose _was_ to protect his family, love the realm and protect it. It was not to sit alone in a library for days on end interpreting old prophecies, but to do what he had to do to ensure the safety of those he loves. And while his body had thinned down and weakened, he had never seen Rhaegar any stronger than he had become now. How he was responsible for so much, and did what he had to do… _I have to save him, and save all of these people. I have to save the city, and to save my prince._

When Arthur finally arrived at the Guildhall, he descended from his horse and unsheathed Dawn. As he had expected, the wooden gate was locked. He could go looking for a rock or a hammer of some sort to knock it down, or he could try the easy way first. He knocked on the door; only three calm knocks, far apart. He concluded that, if the knocker seemed calm enough, the pyromancers will assume they're not Rhaegar's men; that is, if they knew that Rhaegar's men were coming to take them in the first place.

The door was opened, and a young boy with peachy cheeks stood behind it in a black robe. "Yes?" he said. An apprentice, no doubt.

Arthur pushed the boy back and entered, and then locked the door from the inside again, and took the key from the boy's hand. "Stay here and don't do anything stupid," he told the boy.

In the darkness lit only by a few torches, he spied a round table that a group of men was standing around. A few other young boys, three older men, and Rossart. Arthur lunged at him.

"You," Arthur said, "you criminal. You will be punished by our king for your treason."

First, Rossart looked terrified. And then he laughed. "And which king is that, Ser? The true king I serve or yours? Because both of them are about to go up in flames."

Arthur tried to calm himself. "You will stop this right now, or you will be burned in your own green poison. King Rhaegar summons you at the Red Keep, and you will come."

"It is too late to stop it, I'm afraid."

Arthur looked around in terror. There were ten apprentices, and four masters. He remembered that there can't be many more of them who went to execute the plan; the numbers of the alchemists had dwindled over the years.

"You try to frighten me, but all of you are here. The city is not about to burn, because I have all of you, criminals."

"Not all of us, no," one of the other two masters said. And that's when Arthur heard the explosion.

Arthur's heart went mad with the sound. He had heard a canon once; and this sounded like it, though he knew that if he were nearer, it would have been stronger.

"Ser Arthur," one of his men said in a panic, "What should we do?"

Arthur took a deep breath. _I am the sword of the morning. I must be wise. I must be brave. And, I must save my prince._

"You will escort these traitors to King Rhaegar in the Red Keep. I will go and find those of them who fled."

* * *

 

A blaze swallowed a group of houses on the Street of the Sisters, and the screams almost pierced Arthur's ears.

When he approached on his horse, he saw the inhabitants of the houses look from their windows, screaming for help, and behind them, he saw the flames lick their bodies, hungered for flesh. Some smallfolk had gathered in the streets with barrels of water, others stood by watching their neighbors burn. Arthur felt the most let down in his entire life; _this was caused by the monarch I swore myself to protect; by the dynasty I chose to stand for._ He saw a woman in a window carrying a newborn babe out of it as low as she can to keep it away from the fire, and then she threw it to a man standing nearby who barely picked it up. After that, the woman disappeared behind a wall of smoke.

_If I don't catch those necromancers fast enough, they could set more fires._

Nearby, he saw a dozen golden cloaks, and the captain of the city watch, whom he knew; a short and stocky man with golden hair. Arthur descended from his horse to meet them. Before the captain could speak, Ser Arthur said, "Take a large portion of your men under the city, to the tunnels. King Aerys has filled them with wildfire and he has sent a group of pyromancers to set up explosions and burn the city. Catch the pyromancers, and don't touch the wildfire. Another portion is to evacuate as many people from the city as possible to the Kingswood; should we fail to take the wildfire out safely, we want as few casualties as possible.

The captain opened his mouth in shock and said nothing for seconds, while his men started whispering to each other with panic in their eyes. Arthur wasn't certain that all of them understood the word "casualties."

"Worry not. Prince Rhaegar is arriving from Dragonstone in hours, and he will declare a regency over his father once the wildfire is safely removed from the city by the pyromancers. Until then, the ones who set this fire could be elsewhere and setting more fires as we speak. Hurry now."

"Yes, ser." The man turned around and gave instructions to his soldiers. As for Arthur, he knew what he needed to do: Return to the Red Keep and send reinforcements.

He was climbing his horse when the bells of the Red Keep rang. He didn't stay for long enough to see how the people at the scene would react to that, but rode off to the castle. _Rhaegar. If he were hurt…_

As he rode, the story became clearer.

He rode by guards and servants spilling out from the Red Keep, gold cloaks hurrying to carry orders, women speaking to one another while their children were crying, but the louder of them seemed quite certain, somehow, of what had happened:

"King Aerys is dead; he burned himself saying that he will become a dragon."

"A fire in the throne room…."

"They say he tried to burn the city, the bastard, and Rhaegar sent his men to stop it."

"Long live King Rhaegar!"

* * *

 

The next few days were exhausting.

The rogue pyromancers were found as they were about to set up a second explosion, and shot with arrows. Rhaegar appointed Barristan, Gerold, Jaime and Jon Darry to oversee the evacuation of the city. The Kingswood turned into a massive camp for the people of King's Landing, including most of the usual inhabitants of the Red Keep, starting from the kitchen wenches and stable boys and ending with Queen Rhaella herself along with Prince Viserys. Only Rhaegar and his close guard remained in the Red Keep to oversee the operations. The city watch's manpower was divided into two; half of them surveyed the camp to ensure that no murders or rapes or thievery ensued as a result of the chaos, and the other half manned the streets to ensure that the houses and belongings that the King's Landers had left behind were safe. And, of course, they oversaw the pyromancers' evacuation of the wildfire.

The plan to rid the city of the wildfire was simple, and orchestrated by Rhaegar himself: The barrels of wildfire would be loaded into a massive ship, and the ship would be launched into open sea, only manned by a few trustworthy (and very careful) men. When the ship was far enough from the shore, the men would set up an explosion of the wildfire by lighting a tall candle in a pool of it, and evacuate the ship right away in a boat. Should the pyromancers' calculations be correct (and Rhaegar ensured them that they had to be, otherwise they would be drawn and quartered) the men should be far enough from the ship when it explodes, and the ship should be far enough into open sea to not harm anyone.

The day that this evacuation occurred, King Rhaegar stood watch at the port of King's Landing along with a crowd of people who were there to witness the bonfire; the death of this old evil. When the ship exploded, the people cheered, wine was poured, and a celebration was held. Rhaegar was not yet officially crowned, and yet he sat at the high table and heard people toast to his health; a drunk old man from the attendance even presented him with a laurel of white roses and leaves of fragrant basil and rosemary, which Arthur insisted on touching first to ensure there were no thorns. After that, Rhaegar wore it, and chuckled when the crowd repeated "Long may he reign" after the old man. It was not the real coronation, but it made him feel stronger than any high septon or noblemen ever could. Nevertheless, he went back to being solemn shortly after.

The day after the celebration, King Aerys the Second's funeral pyre was held at the sept of Baelor.

The body had been moved to the sept in the dead of night to avoid the angry crowds desecrating it. The silent sisters had their work cut out for them; a large portion of the king's body was charred, including his face, which was beyond recognition.

In funerals of members of House Targaryen, it was customary that the funeral pyre be lit in the center of the sept, with the head pointed towards The Stranger's disfigured statue. After the body was embalmed by the silent sisters, it would be set on fire with a torch held by another member of the house. Rhaegar held the torch, and when he lit the body on fire and watched the last traces of it turn to ash, he looked around to see no one too sorry. Pycelle was dead, and so was Rossart. The remaining members of the guild of pyromancers were all in black cells where they'd die and the secret of the wildfire would die with them. The rest of the king's small council was pretending to stand behind Rhaegar now; but Rhaegar knew that he wouldn't keep any of them for long. As for the other nobles of the court who were in attendance, their faces were respectful, but cold. Rhaegar imagined that they were not very fond of the fact that Aerys had planned to burn them all.

After the funeral, Rhaegar oversaw the restoration of the people of King's Landing to their homes, and then announced that his coronation would be delayed for three weeks, for he needed to travel to Dragonstone and move the belongings of his family into court in order for them to be there when Prince Aegon and Princess Rhaenys were returned from Dorne. A large crowd of nobles and smallfolk stood to bid farewell to the prince before his journey, but he only took Arthur and a few other men that he trusted from his guard. After all the men were boarded, a five-feet tall wooden box was lifted into the ship, carrying cargo that Rhaegar would have transported to Dragonstone.

The journey took a week at sea that served as time for Rhaegar to process everything that had transpired since the day he landed in King's Landing. The wildfire plot, the lords of Westeros's letters of congratulations to King Rhaegar for stopping the plot from taking place and showing their support, the smallfolk's crowning, and the fire. _Oh, Father, the fire most of all._ For days on end, Rhaegar's stomach had churned when he remembered the sight of the fire, and when he remembered that he was the one to light it.

 _Oh, Father Above, forgive me, for I have committed many sins of late_. The pyromancers (even the young apprentices) who would all live and die in black cells, Pycelle, Rossart (who was beheaded) and _Aerys_ …

For as long as he had stayed on the ship, Arthur had not spoken a word to him about what had happened, only held him as he tried to sleep until he went calm and slumbered peacefully. On the last night on the ship, right before they reached Dragonstone, Arthur finally asked the question Rhaegar had dreaded.

"Did you do it? Did you kill Aerys?" Arthur whispered, with their heads on the same pillow, looking straight into each other's eyes. "I would understand if you did. He would have killed us all. I would not trust him to be alive."

Rhaegar bit his lip. "Arthur…"

The knight took a deep breath. "If you wish not to speak of it…"

"I do not. I have committed a great crime in the eyes of gods and men, and should it be known, no one would wish me to be king, ever. I sent you away because I wished not to tarnish your honor by having you witness it. You will get a better answer than this soon, but tonight is not the time."

Arthur nodded. "Fine, then." He reached up with his fingers to brush Rhaegar's hair and the back of his neck. The prince eventually fell asleep.

When they woke up, they were on the shore of Dragonstone. Rhaegar and Arthur dressed and met with their men on deck, where the ship was evacuated from men and cargo quickly. Rhaegar was surprised when he found that he had missed Dragonstone; he had missed the grey sand and the heavy walks he had to take in it, he missed the rocks, he missed the fearsome castle and the stone beasts it was made of, he had missed its clear smell and the clean water of its beaches.

In the castle, he ordered breakfast prepared for his men. Arthur insisted hotly that the prince must eat before he would perform any tasks he had come to perform. "Your face is beginning to look like a skeleton," he said. Rhaegar gave him a small smile. "Are you saying I'm ugly?" he asked, bemused.

"No," Arthur replied, "I'm saying if I were your maester, I'd forbid you to move until you've got some flesh on you. You're going to collapse any day, your grace."

At the great hall, Rhaegar sat by Arthur's side and chewed on hard bread absent-mindedly, and Arthur passed him a plate of fried bacon and eggs. "Your grace," he said politely, but his eyes looked at Rhaegar firmly. He smiled and ate. When breakfast was finished, Rhaegar ordered wine brought to the men, and ordered Arthur and two others to finish quickly, for they had a job to do.

Deep beneath the castle, there were tunnels so deep under the earth and so dark that Rhaegar didn't know if anything could survive there. The cells were carved into rocks in the shape of gaping mouths of dragons, waiting to swallow their enemies. Even the spikes that closed the cell doors were shaped like dragons' fangs. _If my ancestors have built this with the intention to keep prisoners here, it would have been more merciful to just have them beheaded._ But, some prisoners, he knew, deserved no such mercy.

The two men accompanying him and Arthur carried the five-feet tall box that was their cargo from King's Landing. When Rhaegar entered one cell, they all entered behind him and dropped the box on the floor, gently. Arthur looked at Rhaegar in confusion still. "Ser Arthur, please light the fireplace. And you," he pointed towards one of the two other men. "Open the box, please." Rhaegar ordered. While Arthur lit the fire with two stones left near the wood for use, the man took out of his pocket a key and opened the lock that kept the box shut. When he was done, the front side of the box fell, and revealed its content.

"All of you, please leave, but stand nearby for when I call on you," Rhaegar said. "I would like a private audience with my father."

* * *

 

Aerys was bound by the hands and feet and gagged. Before putting him in the box, Rhaegar had forced him to bathe: "You're going to further rot in there," he said to the old man during his imprisonment in Maegor's Holdfast. He had kicked and screamed while his two loyal guards carried out Rhaegar's every order, but he had no other choice. If people were to know he was alive, they were to kill him slowly, and seven hells with all the laws of gods and men.

But his face… his face was one of the things that gave Rhaegar nightmares since that night.

Rhaegar would not have his father be recognizable, and so, he had had his face disfigured. With a hot knife, he had ordered his father's face carved almost all the way across, and several scars were placed on different parts of his face. His hair and nails were cut, and he was stripped of his House Targaryen garb and placed in robes. As for Grand Maester Pycelle… he took the king's place, the king's clothes, and the fate that the king deserved, and only did not get because Rhaegar was too afraid to kill his own father.

Beneath the gag, Aerys was making muffled, choking voices; in the past week or so, he had been trying to scream, until he lost his voice. There was no use. Rhaegar had confined him in a lone cabin as far from the other men as possible, and the gag and box muffled his voice enough.

"You know, father, Lord Varys was brought here in exactly this manner. My dear friends Doran and Oberyn Martell have had him brought to me, delivered in a box like this one, and he was delivered by my mute friend also. But he died, father. Quite quickly; I'm not fond of torture, and he was only looking out for his own good, like most of us are. But you…" Rhaegar's fist closed so forcefully his fingers hurt. "You hurt my mother, and you almost hurt my brother. You almost killed my children. You almost killed Arthur, and you almost burned my city, my _people_."

"You see, with Varys, I also removed his gag and let him answer me; explain his crimes. I asked him: Why, Lord Varys? Why did you support an obvious madman? Why not help me ascend the throne and save the realm from his folly? Why did you let him hurt all of those people, and help him do so? Did he know, father? About the wildfire, that is? I imagine he did. But you… I doubt you have any explanation that a sane man could swallow."

"Before I go, let me ease any fears you might have about the future of our house. I will rule Westeros. I will do all that is in my power to erase your legacy. I will end the tradition of incest and I will ally the Targaryens with the paramount houses of the realm by marriage. My son will marry a Stark or a Baratheon, most like, my daughter a Tully, and Viserys will marry another princess of Dorne. They will grow to be strong and kind and worthy of what a Targaryen should be. My children are half Dornish, and I am proud of them, as is Dorne. When we set that ship on fire, we set the past of our house on fire also; we will no longer isolate ourselves and rule from a superior place; we will rule because we will deserve to rule, and I will make sure that my son is worthy of ruling, and that he teaches his son to so be, and his son teaches his son… and House Targaryen will be a strong and fair dynasty till the end of days. But that is of no concern to you, is it? You almost burned half a million Westerosi alive. You care naught for the good of the realm. You are no dragon, father, you are little more than a serpent. Ser Arthur," Rhaegar called, "Come and bring your companions."

When they arrived, Rhaegar pointed towards one of them. "Let me introduce you to my good friend here, father. I do not know his name. He is mute. And I'm sure you're familiar with Ser Ilyn Payne. One day, you cut out his tongue because he said something you didn't like. Today, Ser Ilyn will return the courtesy. Ser Ilyn, heat your dagger in the fire."

Aerys stared at Rhaegar in horror. _Apparently, he doesn't mind being burned alive, but having his tongue cut out inconveniences him._ Rhaegar returned his father's gaze with a gaze like steel: Sharp, cold, unfeeling.

When Ser Ilyn's blade was finally orange, Rhaegar looked at Arthur. He looked at him because if Arthur's eyes told him not to do it, he will leave the old man alone and be done with it. But Arthur only gave him a slight nod. Rhaegar's eyes went to Ilyn Payne.

"Remove his gag and return his courtesy, Ser Ilyn."

* * *

 

The first few months of Rhaegar's reign went smoothly.

Rhaegar finally got the time he had craved with his mother and brother. Rhaella was hurt, and she would need time to heal. Viserys was a bit quiet; Rhaegar gathered that, because the only other man he knew was so fearful and volatile, he was not quite comfortable around his older brother. So, Rhaegar decided to take him training with him in the yard to carry swords, and made sure to constantly be reassuring. He would tell him not to be afraid, pat his shoulders and his face tenderly, and laugh with him. Eventually, Viserys had warmed up to him and would even start their conversations when they met. Arthur also did his best with Viserys; Rhaegar noticed. He later exchanged letters with Lord Mace to arrange for his mother and brother to go and stay at Highgarden for a bit; the beauty of the reach was healthy for them, after months of imprisonment with a madman.

The coronation went well. Rhaegar had found that he did not look forward to it, but did not particularly dread it either. It was merely one more task; just another day. But after the crowd chanted "Long may he reign," Arthur turned around to him and gave him a look that made his blood run heated and his heartbeat quicken.

As promised, Rhaegar dismissed Lord Chelsted and appointed Jon Arryn as his hand. Most of his father's small council was dismissed and replaced. When the new master of whisperers, Oberyn Martell, arrived to King's Landing, he had expressed his satisfaction with Rhaegar living up to his part of the bargain. "Why, your grace," Oberyn had smiled and said, when Rhaegar invited him to a private setting, "You have done well. Certainly my brother is happy with the match with Prince Viserys. Should he grow up to be a capable man like you, my niece will be a lucky woman."

Rhaegar smiled back. "I'm glad I did not disappoint. May our friendship last for as long as our names remain on this earth. For my brave and kind wife, your sister."

Earlier that day, Rhaegar had received Rhaenys and Aegon in the castle yard. He had held Rhaenys and spun her around, both of them chuckling, and then he kissed her hair. It smelled of roses. She held on to him, tying her arms around his neck, and telling him stories of the Water Gardens. Of Arianne, Nymeria, Tyene, Prince Doran…

"Uncle Oberyn assured me that he will teach me how to carry a spear."

Rhaegar smiled. "Ser Arthur and I will be responsible for the sword part of your training, then, I suppose."

Aegon, he had grown just a tiny bit. His head felt more solid when Rhaegar slightly pressed on it, and his eyes could open wider. When Rhaegar held him to his chest, he was so calm. After that, the royal children were taken to meet their grandmother, the queen, who embraced them just as tenderly, told Rhaenys sweet stories, and introduced Viserys to them. Viserys seemed to think that Rhaenys was young and silly, but he played with her and corrected her silliness nonetheless.

Weeks after that, Rhaegar found himself in need of some time alone, and "alone" meant him and Arthur, for there was nowhere in the world where Rhaegar could feel at peace without him. Without Arthur, the prince had felt as if he were missing a part of himself, rather than simply being without a friend or even a lover. Before leaving to Summerhall, Rhaegar had opened his drawer to give a look of farewell to the box of black wood with the three-headed dragon on it. He opened it, and caressed Elia's lock of hair gently. "The children are safe," he whispered. "I hope wherever you are, you are not further disappointed in me."

* * *

 

They lay on their backs on the cool marble floor, which eventually warmed up under their skin. The roof of the great hall of Summerhall had fallen; that's how destructive the fire that came with Rhaegar's birth was. Nevertheless, the stars had made him feel at peace. He had once read a book by a maester whose name he had forgotten, that theorized that the stars were faraway planets that burned with fires so hot they shone at us as such. Rhaegar wondered if one day, the same will come of this planet. He hoped it was not while he and his children and their children lived.

"What are you thinking?" Arthur asked him.

Rhaegar smiled. "I'm thinking that the stars look like your eyes. You?"

"I am thinking that I might never know what you truly think. Whenever I'm thinking of something smart and I think I might be catching up with you, turns out I'm only halfway there. It did not occur to me to replace your father with Pycelle, it did not occur to me to appoint Oberyn master of whisperers… but that is alright, because whatever you end up doing always amazes me."

 _Your father._ The memory of the man troubled him. Arthur read that, and instantly sought to ease his mind. "I know you feel guilty. At lease you did not murder him, and believe me, he deserves to be dead."

"I…" Rhaegar's voice was almost choking. He cleared his throat. "I had to cut his tongue and mutilate his face, to ensure that…"

"I know. To ensure that no one recognizes him, and that he speaks to no one. And I'm telling you this: He deserved worse. I still can't believe Barristan helped you do it, though."

"He is no idiot," Rhaegar replied. "He swore to protect the king, and my father's actions threatened not only himself, but his heirs, his queen, and the entire population of King's Landing. It was him or all of us."

"I'm glad he made the right choice. I didn't want to stand against him."

Rhaegar turned his gaze away from the stars to Arthur. "You know… you _do_ know what I'm thinking. You're always here to tell me not to worry, it's alright, I did well."

"I know enough to love you."

They both smiled and kissed. After they broke the kiss, Rhaegar lay his head on Arthur's arm. Arthur squinted. "You know, you are slowly returning to what you used to look like. Your hair is growing longer again, your face is growing fuller… things are getting better."

Rhaegar snickered, and then took a deep breath. "It is over. My family is no longer in danger. Now my attention can go to other things, such as my own health. I don't want to know how my family would fare with me dead. I still need help with the children, though, especially when my mother goes away to Highgarden. The grand maester says there is a chance she might be pregnant. I don't know which to give more care, my family or the realm. Will you help me?"

"Of course, I will. Now that you are king, you get to command me, your grace."

Rhaegar moaned in protest, and Arthur laughed, and then he stopped laughing. "You are a good king. A kind, fair, wise king, and I vow to serve you with my life." His hand was caressing Rhaegar's chin, and then it went down to his neck, then to his chest, then down under that. "Long may he reign," the knight whispered. Rhaegar laughed, and laughed, and then they kissed, and kissed, and kissed… until all the thirst was gone from them.

_The End._

* * *

 


End file.
